


The Nurse Story

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bathtub, Dependency, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, First Time, Handcuffs, John Tries to Be Patient With The Patient, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Romantic Sherlock, Sexy Stories, Sherlock Needs Looking After, bet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is incapacitated and John takes over as his nurse. What follows is something they both had imagined, but never thought would happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Just Hate This

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

"At least it didn't happen on a case," Sherlock said, as John carried him up the stairs. "I feel like you wish it had been so that you could spend my whole recovery feeling smug, thinking 'I told him he should have been more careful'. I bet you'd have loved that."

Of course, he was aware that John was actually really helping him a lot and that he should probably be appearing a little more grateful and a little less sarcastic. However, he just couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that it was something so stupid that had led to his current condition. He was at the hospital and slipped on the wet floor. As simple as that. There had been a caution sign but Sherlock hadn't seen it -- he'd been thinking. About something important undoubtedly, but ironically, he couldn't now remember what it was. He'd think of it again eventually; important things never go away forever.

John got them through the door and set him down on the sofa. He looked up at John's face -- it was exhausted, quite pink from exertion, but he also saw John's concern. He wanted to say thank you, John, thank you for coming the minute Molly texted you, thank you for staying with me until the painkillers started working, thank you for going outside and standing by the smokers and coming back and leaning over me until the smell calmed me. But he didn't say those things.

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders dramatically and said, "Bored."

John rolled his eyes and ignored him, moving into the kitchen to make some tea. He wouldn't admit the text had scared him. He'd seen Sherlock leap from building to building before, so getting a text that he was in the hospital nearly sent John there himself. Eventually he found out it was just a broken leg and he felt a bit silly for how he'd reacted -- but it was mostly to himself so there was that small comfort. His worry for Sherlock slowly dissipated to annoyance as the man turned into more of a child than he normally was. "Sherlock, you better find something good on the telly because that's the only thing you can do for a while."   

Sherlock humphed loudly. He looked around the room. "I can't reach the remote," he said. He struggled to take off his coat, but he was sitting on the back of it. He left it half way on, half way off. "Oh god, I hate everything about this already," Sherlock said.

John brought Sherlock's mug out to the coffee table before gripping his coat. "It's just your leg, Sherlock. Grab the back of the sofa and roll over a bit so I can take this off," he said. When Sherlock did, John pulled his coat free and handed him the remote as well.

"I'm worried I need the toilet," Sherlock said. "I don't think I have to go but now I feel like, because I'm thinking of it, I'm going to have to go. Maybe you should just drag me to the toilet and leave me in there until this cast comes off."

"I'm not going to leave you in the toilet, Sherlock. I don't mind helping you." He came over and put his arm out so he could help Sherlock up. "I could always bring you a potty from the hospital," he teased. 

Sherlock let John help him even though he wished he could do something so he was no longer dependent. It was like his brain was constantly scanning everything in it to come up with a way that he could just think a broken leg away. John stepped outside the bathroom and shut the door. Sherlock leaned up against the wall and undid his trousers but he couldn't go. He didn't have to. He waited a few minutes and did up his trousers. "John," he called, "I'm done." He wobbled to turn himself around, but he knew that properly walking, on his own, was entirely out of the question.

John pulled open the door without mentioning that he hadn't even flushed. John scooped him under the arm again and slowly helped him over to the sofa again. "What do you want for dinner?"

"I'm not going to eat," Sherlock said. "That way I won't need to use the toilet."

"Don't be stupid. You need to eat and keep your strength up so you can heal faster." 

"Why are you so cruel?" Sherlock asked as he tried to get comfortable on the sofa.

"Excuse me for trying to help you get better," John said. He sank down into his chair and watched Sherlock fidgeting, wishing he could help make him more comfortable. "So? What would you like?"

"Some kind of soup, I guess," Sherlock said. He remembered how his mother always gave him soup when he was poorly as a child. It made him feel less pathetic, made him feel comforted. "Can you do soup?"

"Are you asking me for something homemade or something I heat up from a tin? Or ordering soup? I can do all of those," John smiled.

"I'd just like something that is hot liquid in a bowl that I can eat with a spoon," Sherlock said. "Whatever's easiest."

"Tinned it is. Fresh soup will take at least two hours so we can save that for another day." John got up and went into the kitchen again. "I've called off of work for a while, until you're better," he added.

"John, I don't think you should do that. It's fussing. I hate fussing," Sherlock said. "Just go to work and be normal."

"And how will you get anywhere if I'm at work? Mrs Hudson can't lift you," he pointed out. "It's fine, Sherlock. Honest." He dumped the contents of two cans into a pan and lit the burner, leaning on the opposite counter.

"I won't need to go anywhere. Why would I need to? You can just set me near the desk and I'll busy myself until you get home. If I have to go to the toilet, I'll just hold it," Sherlock said.

"You'll get stiff in the chair and won't be able to get to the sofa. Holding your urine for so many hours isn't good for you, you won't be able to make anything to eat, and knowing you, if you manage to get to the sofa you'll forget the remote again. The last thing I need is to come home and find you've shredded the pillows or something." John watched the soup start to bubble and he started stirring, getting out two bowls. "It's really no trouble, Sherlock. Honest." 

"Fine, fine, fine," Sherlock said. "Is that soup coming or what?"

"Calm down. I'm not going to bring it out cold," John called back. As he mixed the soup he thought about how nice it would be to stay home with Sherlock for a bit. Even though they lived together, it was hard spending proper time together. By the time John got home from work, the man was experimenting, lost in his Mind Palace, or running off to chase down some lead. Even going with him on the cases hardly counted because he was so focused on the case. He knew this wasn't an ideal circumstance and he should not be happy about it, but he had to look at the silver lining of it all.  

"Sorry," Sherlock mumbled. He picked up the remote and flicked through the channels again. He watched John out the corner of his eye.

Ten minutes later John brought Sherlock his bowl of soup, along with a bottle of water and crackers. "Careful, yeah?" As he walked by again he ruffled Sherlock's hair, pausing as his face flushed. "I . . . sorry, Sherlock. I don't know why I did that," he said quickly. His mind was still trying to figure it out. He was staring at his hand like it didn't belong to him. 

"I don't care," Sherlock said. "You've touched my hair before. Haven't you? I'm sure you have. Don't be weird."

"I'm not being weird," John huffed, going back to the kitchen for his own soup. He crushed the crackers into the soup and put the bowl in a plate. He was not being weird.

Sherlock watched John come in and sit down in his chair. Then he started to eat his soup. "It's good," he said. It wasn't bad, of course, it's just that Sherlock was overall indifferent to most food. But what was good was the feeling of holding the bowl on his chest and using the spoon. It was a nice sensation. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"Sure," John said, looking over at him and smiling softly. He seemed so much more childlike as he ate his soup, and John had an overwhelming urge to just wrap him in blankets and read him stories. He shook his head and went back to his food.

"Perhaps I'll go to bed after this," Sherlock said. "I think I'm tired. Being at the hospital was exhausting. The nurses were running about and it made me tired."

John smiled wider and nodded. "Yes, I think some proper rest will be good for you. Please try and sleep, okay?"

"Perhaps you can sit in my room and give me one of your lectures -- those usually put me straight to sleep," Sherlock said, setting his bowl on the table.

John raised his brows and took that as a joke, not responding to it. "I'll turn my phone up so that you can text me when you're awake. Don't try shouting from your room -- I don't want to bother Mrs Hudson."

"All right then, can you help me? I'll need to stop at the toilet again, I'm afraid. I'll go properly this time," Sherlock said, before realising it was kind of an odd thing to say.

John put down his half finished soup and came over to the sofa, lifting his again and slowly making his way to the bathroom. "Why did you refuse the crutches again?" John asked as he pulled the door shut. He moved for his bowl, eating while he waited. 

Sherlock was able to go and then he washed his hands and face and then brushed his teeth. What he really wanted was a proper wash, but that'd have to wait -- not until the cast came off, that wouldn't be realistic. But it could wait until tomorrow.

"John," he called. "I'm ready for bed."

John put the bowl down again and opened the door, holding Sherlock around the waist and leading him to his room. "I should just carry you," he said when they were almost there. He eased Sherlock on the edge of the bed and stepped back. "Do you need help with anything else?" he asked a bit awkwardly.

Sherlock tried to get comfortable. "I can't get comfortable," he said.

"Are you going to stay in those clothes?" John asked, pulling the pillows he didn't use down towards his feet.

"For now, I guess," Sherlock said. "I don't know. What do you think I should do?" He watched John fuss with the pillows. He leaned over and ruffled John's hair. "There," he said, "now we're even."

John rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling. "If you're comfortable in them then that's fine." He put Sherlock's leg carefully onto one of the pillows so out was raised and slightly bent. "That should help make you'll more comfortable. I'm afraid you'll have to sleep on your back for a while," he said.

"I hate sleeping on my back," Sherlock said, even though he didn't know that to be true. He tried to remember how he normally slept, but couldn't. "I just…hate this."

John looked up at him when he was finished. "I know, Sherlock. I know this is going to be hard but you'll be better before you know it," he said.  

"I'm sorry, I'm just being stupid," Sherlock said, shaking his head. He sat himself up and unbuttoned his shirt. "Could you get me a t-shirt? Maybe that'll help."

John pulled open the second drawer of the dresser because that's where he kept his undershirts in his own room. Great minds. He pulled one out and handed it to Sherlock. He couldn't help wandering eyes, but only for a quick second before he took the other shirt and put it on the chair. 

Sherlock slipped the t-shirt over his head. "It's a bit stupid that I feel so bothered," Sherlock said. "It's just my leg -- it's not something important like my hands or brain. I should still be able to work, it's just…I hate feeling trapped, helpless."

"You know if you had taken the crutches you could have at least moved on your own," John reminded him, but he kept his tone light and teasing. Sherlock could lean on him now. He ignored the fact that he'd just seriously thought that. 

"I thought I wouldn't need them," Sherlock said. He yawned. "All right, I'm going to try to go to sleep now. Thanks for everything today, John," he added quietly.

"You're welcome," John said. "Text me if you need anything -- my phone will be on, okay?" John left his door cracked before taking everything to the sink. The rest of his soup had gone cold so he dumped it and washed the dishes. He shut off the telly and went up to bed, stripping down to his pants and undershirt before falling into bed. 

Sherlock fell asleep but woke up a little later. The pain was back. Why didn't he bring the pills in? He felt angry at himself for not thinking. He tried to hold out, but it got too bad. He picked up his phone.

_I'm sorry. I forgot to bring in pills. I think I need them. I'm sorry if I woke you. SH_

John jumped as the phone beeped, vibrating hard against the bedside table. He squinted and swore at the brightness of the light as he tried to read the message. He hadn't even thought about the pain medicine. He dragged himself out of bed and, in his sleepy state, didn't put anything else on. He got the pills from the bathroom, grabbed another bottle of water and headed into Sherlock's room. "Sorry, I forgot," he said, handing them to Sherlock. 

"Thanks," Sherlock said. He felt a mix of embarrassment and relief. He swallowed them quickly. "Thanks," he repeated.

"I'll leave them here," he said, putting both back on the bedside table. "But I know how many are in there, yeah? Don't take more than two every six hours -- they're strong," he warned. He closed his eyes and just stood there for a moment. Then he snapped them open and realised where he was. "Oh. Well, good night," he said, shuffling his way out of the room again.

"John!" Sherlock called. "I'm going to take two more right now." He wasn't quite sure what his plan was, but he said it anyway.

John paused outside of the room and came back in. "You can't, Sherlock. If you run out before the next refill date, they won't give you anymore. There's a reason you can only take two at a time," he said. He put the small bottle on the other side of the nightstand, but it was still within reach if he tried hard enough. 

"John, please," Sherlock said as if insulted. He opened his drawer, got out a notebook and used it to knock over the bottle and drag it towards him. "Did you really think that would stop me?" He held the bottle in his hand and lay back flat on the pillow. "I'm sure it's the pain talking," he said, "but if you really don't think I should take more, maybe you should stay in here with me. To be sure I don't." He really did not know what inside was motivating this -- perhaps it was just a reaction to his forced dependency -- but he closed his eyes, waiting for John's response.


	2. John, Something's Happened

John stood there for a long time -- too long to be normal. He looked back at the door and then at Sherlock again. There were a hundred other things he could have done but he moved quietly around to the other side of the bed. "I could just take the bottle," he grumbled as he climbed in. That was when he remembered he was just in his pants. Oh well. He wasn't going all the way up again.

"I hadn't thought of that," Sherlock lied. "But you're here now anyway. Maybe we could chat until the pills kick in and I can sleep again. I feel bad keeping you awake, but, of course, I just remembered that you're not going to work tomorrow so actually now I feel slightly less bad." 

John turned his head to look at Sherlock, fighting a small sigh. "And what would you like to talk about?"

"Well…before I knew you, you were a patient as well as a doctor. Putting aside the reasons for your being there, did you like being a patient?" Sherlock asked.

"A patient? You mean for my shoulder?" John asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "We don't have to talk about it, if you'd rather not, but I know you mostly think of these things as a doctor, but you have been a patient and I was just wondering how you found that to be."

"I hated it. I hated the reason it happened, I hated feeling helpless, and I was angry." John sighed. "But I was grateful that I wasn't dead."

"I know it was difficult, or I should say I can imagine it was difficult -- but just the experience of being a patient…did you like the nurses fussing you?" Sherlock asked.

"It was awkward. I didn't like bothering them and I didn't like that I needed them. I appreciated them but was glad when I could do stuff alone again."

"You didn't like seeing all those women in their little blue dresses, loitering around your bed?" Sherlock asked, smiling a little, feeling grateful the lights were out.

"Pervert," John smiled, nudging his arm. "I was wounded." He paused and shrugged. "It wasn't the worst thing," he admitted.

"Have you ever done that -- been with more than one person at a time?" Sherlock said. "Sorry…I know we don't really talk about those things…maybe it's the pills…but if you want to answer, feel free."

"You mean like a threesome?" John asked stupidly, feeling his face flush. "Or casually seeing more than one person?"

"I suppose I mean a threesome," Sherlock said. He knew he could stop this conversation at any time -- maybe he should actually, but he didn't.

"No, I haven't," John said quietly. Then he glanced over, thankful for the dark. "Have you?"

"Why do you want to know?" Sherlock asked.

"Why do you?" John countered.

"Because I find your sex life quite fascinating," Sherlock said.

"Well, me too," he said.

"My sex life? Trust me, it's not fascinating in the slightest," Sherlock said. "You, on the other hand, all that seems quite… _crucial_ to you and I think that's…interesting."

"I think it's interesting that you don't find it crucial."

"Well, I do not," Sherlock said. "Not everyone does, John." He sat up and took another drink of water, before lying down again. "All right then, any other questions? The pills have definitely kicked in -- you may never get a chance for my tongue to be loose about this topic, so go ahead and ask if you want."

"You didn't answer my other question," John said. He never thought he'd be talking about sex with Sherlock.

"Well, think about it -- I'm barely able to focus on anyone's needs but my own, do you think I could cope with more than one person?" Sherlock said. "That said, I have been present when two people were having sex. I wasn't involved. It was initially interesting then annoying and eventually just a bit boring."

"Two people agreed to let you watch?" John asked, looking over at him.

"Well…it was at university," Sherlock said, looking up at the ceiling. "I had a roommate. I guess the first time it happened, he just assumed I was asleep. When I realised what was going on, I was curious, I confess, as I'd never done it myself. So I watched them. When it happened again, I just pretended to be asleep, but the next time, he said my name, like they wanted me to watch, and it was too…whatever. So that's it with regards to threesomes."

"Hmm. And when did you have sex?" John asked a bit quieter.

"With my roommate?" Sherlock asked.

"In general," John said.

"It was also at uni. I presume that's when you did as well," Sherlock said.

"Yeah," John agreed.

"Okay then," Sherlock said. "Anything else or are we done?"

"Was it with a man or a woman?" John asked, quieter still. He knew Sherlock was affected by the pills, but he was going to remember all of this in the morning. 

"The first time?" Sherlock asked. "A man."

"But not the other times?" John asked before he could help himself. He didn't know why he found this so fascinating. All this time he'd lived with Sherlock and the man never talked about things like this.  

"Most of the other times as well," Sherlock said. "And you? Was your first time with a man or woman?"

"A woman. It's always been with women," he said. "I thought about it when…in the army," he admitted. "But with everyone sharing I didn't want to catch anything."

"But you've also thought about it since you've moved into the flat?" Sherlock said.

John hesitated for just a second. "I've remembered those times, yeah," he said, deliberately avoiding the question he knew Sherlock was asking. 

"Well, if you have any questions about the whole business, now you know you can ask me if you'd like," Sherlock said. "Of course, considering men would open a whole new pool of applicants for you since you find it all so crucial."

"It's not the sex that's crucial," John said. "I mean, if it's that important I can do it myself. It's just…connecting with another person. Touching someone, being touched -- it makes you feel alive. Wanted." He turned his head away from Sherlock now, feeling even more stupid than when this conversation started. 

"People were touching me all day today -- it didn't make me feel wanted," Sherlock said. He swallowed. "Don't…we connect? We touch each other -- not in that way, granted, but don't I make you feel anything?"

John flushed and looked even more away from him now, his head turning completely to the side. "It's different being touched that way. And yeah, I mean, we connect but it's…like friends. It's different." 

"Fair enough," Sherlock said. "I know what you mean."

Maybe the conversation should stop there, Sherlock thought. He closed his eyes, preparing to go to sleep. He imagined the medication in his bloodstream, spreading throughout his body. He knew the pain came from his leg but, of course, the pain was actually in his brain. He imagined his veins pulling the medication upwards, easing everything, making him dozy and comforted.

He was glad John was here. John was also comforting. Even if he didn't make John feel something, he knew that John made him feel safe, happy even. And warm. Sherlock felt warm all of a sudden. And then he felt something else. 

There was a second of panic, before he spoke. "John," he said quietly. "I…something's happened, I'm afraid, and I think it might just be best to tell you directly. I'm sure it's the pills along with the talk and memories, but I seem to have developed…an erection." God, this was quite embarrassing, he thought. "I don't want you to feel awkward -- don't get freaked out. I'm going to think of something to make it go away. But I felt I should tell you. You can go back to your room, if you'd feel more comfortable."

John's eyes flew open and he stared wide eyed into the dark. Why on earth would he have to mention that? Especially if he was going to just make it go away. Did he want John to do something about it? He shifted his eyes to the side without moving his head but he couldn't see anything. "I think it's best if you just don't talk about it," John said quietly. He closed his eyes. What if that was Sherlock's way of seeing if he was interested? What if this was his only chance? No. He couldn't risk that on something so vague. 

"Don't be mad," Sherlock said. "Please. It's just a biological reaction. Don't…I mean, you've masturbated almost every day since you've moved in here. Don't get mad at me, just because this happened once." He closed his eyes and tried to think it away. He thought about all of John's most annoying habits.

"I'm not mad! Sherlock, I'm not mad, okay? I just think it would be easier if you didn't talk about it," he explained. 

"Easier for me or for you?" Sherlock asked. It still hadn't gone away yet.

"For you -- if you stop thinking about it then it'll go away easier. Unless you want to take care of it properly. Do you want me to give you a minute?"

"Um, I…would that make you feel uncomfortable?" Sherlock said. Somehow it seemed even harder now.

"I think you would be more comfortable. You could probably get to sleep more easily without an erection," he said. He had turned his head now, first as a ruse to properly look at Sherlock, but now he was looking at the obvious bulge in his trousers. "Maybe it would be best if we took care of it," he said, missing the fact that he'd said 'we'. 

"Um, okay," Sherlock said. "What should I do? Should I just…?" This was definitely unusual, but Sherlock also felt a strange calmness about it all.

Trying not to over think what he was doing, John reached over and started to unbutton Sherlock's trousers, trying to push them down a bit. "We just have to take care of it," he repeated quietly. 

"It's selfish of me," Sherlock said, allowing John to continue. "I'm sorry…"

"It's fine," John assured him. When he managed to get his trousers down enough, he pushed at his pants, getting the elastic low enough so that Sherlock was exposed. He wrapped his fingers around him and started to stroke, moving slow and holding lightly so he wouldn't hurt him. 

"Fuck, John," Sherlock said. It'd been a very long time since someone had touched him -- long before John had moved in. Sherlock pressed his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes. John was pretty good at this; he should be, he got enough practice in the shower every morning. "That feels good," he moaned softly.

John looked up and wished he could see Sherlock's face. The sounds he was making traveled straight to his groin -- he felt very warm and he was starting to get aroused himself. He tried to ignore it and focus on stroking Sherlock. Now that he was leaking a bit his hand could move easier and faster. 

"Thirty seconds," Sherlock said, his voice catching in his throat.

"Shh," John murmured. "Just relax."

"Twenty more seconds," Sherlock said and he closed his eyes and he couldn't help but think about John and John's hand and he wished that John would lean over and kiss him and then he came. He pushed himself up and leaned over to the cabinet and got out some tissues to hand to John. "Sorry again," he said quietly, "but thanks."

John wiped off his hand and tossed them into the bin on his side of the bed. "Sure," he murmured, laying back down and turning a bit away from Sherlock. He palmed once at himself before curling his hands close. He tried to take his own advice and forget it. 

It was quiet for a few minutes. "John," Sherlock said, not adding anything for another minute. "I feel like…you should do it as well. So we're equal -- so you don't think it's something to worry about. I appreciate you don't have an erection like I had, but could you get one and do it? So we're equal. I could help…I mean, I could set the mood…"

John flushed and shook his head. "I…really, Sherlock…it's fine," he said. He tried to stop thinking about Sherlock's hand around his cock. "It's fine," he breathed. 

"Look, it won't be weird -- let's face it, I'm pretty sure I know what does it for you…you know you're horrible at deleting your browsing history," Sherlock said. "Come on, please? Then we'll go back to how things were and we never need to talk about it again."

John turned onto his back and sighed. "Okay," he agreed quietly. This wasn't strange. Friends got each other off all the time, they did in the army. He swallowed and pushed his hand into his pants, stroking slowly. 

"All right, just relax, close your eyes and pretend I'm not here," Sherlock said, his voice calm and quiet. Sherlock flipped back in his memory to the last time he saw John's computer.

"It's been a while and you really hope tonight is your lucky night. You go out to a club. A woman comes over to you -- you'll have to imagine her yourself, I can't tell your type since the videos seem based on actions rather than the actual women-- anyway, she comes over to you and smiles. You smile back. You find her attractive. She says, "It's so busy in here, there's so many people." But it's so loud you can barely hear her. She leans closer, she's practically pressing against you now, and she says, "There are so many people here…watching." Sherlock noted John's reaction -- aha, he remembered correctly: public sex was one thing John had searched.

John did everything Sherlock asked. His hand moved along his cock, even more grateful for the darkness now.

Sherlock continued, "She reaches over and puts her hand on your belt and opens your trousers. She slides you out, you're already…you're all ready…and she slides onto your lap. You can feel skin against skin, you know she's not wearing any knickers. She shifts her body and suddenly you're inside. 'Fuck me,' she says in your ear. She starts bouncing on you, slamming into you, bumping the people around her. They turn and look. They're watching." Sherlock felt the bed moving slightly with John's movement. He turned his head towards John. "'Harder, harder, you feel so good,'" Sherlock said, his voice breathy. "She bites your ear, she's begging you to fuck her harder. She leans back a bit and then she sits up and pinches your nipples and you like that, you love that, and you're thrusting harder and harder and you're about to come." Sherlock considered reaching out and just touching John's arm, but he didn't. "John, are you ready?" he said, trying to make his voice sound more normal.

"Fucking hell," John moaned softly, imagining Sherlock riding him at a club. Then he imagined riding Sherlock at the club, everyone watching him -- watching them. He came into his hand, nearly biting through his lip so he wouldn't say Sherlock's name.

"How'd I do then?" Sherlock said.

"Can I have another tissue please?" John asked softly.

Sherlock felt somewhat pleased with himself. He reached over and grabbed more tissues for John. "Well, we're equal now," Sherlock said. 

"Right," John murmured, tossing his tissue away. He shifted a bit, unable to believe he'd just done that. He felt like he had to explain. "I…it's fun to think about but I'd never...you know."

"Obviously," Sherlock said. "I am familiar with the concept of fantasy, you know." Sherlock tried to get comfortable again. "Well, good night then," he said. He couldn't help but think a bit about John touching him and also the noises John had made. He felt all right and managed to fall to sleep. When he woke up, there was a quick panic when he realised his leg was in a cast and then confusion when he saw John lying on the bed beside him. And then he had pain again. He reached over and took another pill. But it was too late -- he was awake and he needed to pee.

"John," he said softly, leaning over and poking his arm a bit. "I need your help. I need the toilet."


	3. So You're Accepting The Challenge?

John shifted and almost turned the other way when be remembered what was happening. He blinked his eyes open and sat up. "Hold on," he said. He went to the bathroom himself and then up to put his pajamas on before coming back to get Sherlock. "Come on, then," he said.

Sherlock leaned on John until they got to the bathroom. He went in, leaned against the wall again and went to the toilet. He remembered last night. Unusual. He flushed the toilet and tested his leg but it was still too sore. He knew it would be -- perhaps he had just hoped there had been a miracle. He wobbled to the sink and washed his face and brushed his teeth. Then he called for John.

John opened the door and helped him out. "Sofa?" He asked, looking up at him. He felt…different towards him. He knew it was because of what they did last night.

"Thanks," Sherlock said. He tried to get himself comfortable. "Are you making tea?"

"I can," John nodded. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Not particularly," Sherlock said. "Only make something if you want it -- don't do it just to fuss me, please."

John rolled his eyes and put some bread in the toaster while he waited for tea. "Did you sleep all right?" he asked out of habit. 

"I did," Sherlock said. "And you? My bed's quite comfortable. I think the pillows under my leg did help." He turned himself around on the sofa and lifted his legs up, sliding a pillow under the cast.

"I knew the pillows would help, easing some of the weight of the cast," he said. He ignored the part about Sherlock's bed. 

"I don't know where the remote is," Sherlock said. He looked around, sliding his hand down the cushions. "Found it," he said and flipped through the channels. "I'll just have butter on my toast, please."

John spread the butter on and popped a couple pieces in for himself before bringing the toast and tea out to him. He moved back onto the kitchen and waited for his own toast. "Did you take medicine today?"

"I took the painkillers," Sherlock said, "before I woke you up. How long will I need those? I kind of like them."

"And that's why you need to be supervised," John chuckled. He came out to his chair and settled in to have his breakfast.

"God, you fucking love this, don't you? You really love getting to be the boss of me," Sherlock teased. "You do realise you'd better not push your luck though. Technically my name's the only one on the lease and I'd hate to have to throw you out of here." He took a sip of tea. "Thanks for the breakfast, by the way."

"I dare you to kick me out," John laughed.

"Don't tempt me," Sherlock said. "Look, are you going to have a shower soon? It's usually about this time of the morning when I have a cigarette. You're normally not here and I can just smoke one in peace. Why don't you go have a shower and pretend I've not just said that and I can get to it?"

John narrowed his eyes. "You're being extra mean this morning," he said. He put his dishes in the sink, took Sherlock's cigarettes and lighter, waved them at him before disappearing into the bathroom.

"You're a horrible person, John Watson," Sherlock called. He turned his attention to the television and immediately got bored.

John took his time in the shower, thinking about the night before. Sherlock's knowing about his shower wank wasn't really a bother -- he didn't know what John was thinking about while he did it. Sure, he looked up porn on the computer, depending on his mood, but here in the shower he could think without fear of being caught. And now, thanks to last night, he had a proper physical image.

He closed his eyes and imagined his mouth around Sherlock, imagined Sherlock pushing into his throat. He imagined Sherlock pushing into his body, bucking and moaning until he came for real. He cleaned himself up and got out. He went up to his room in his towel and got dressed, coming back down without the cigarettes.

"You look guilty," Sherlock said.

"I did steal your cigarettes," John said as he said down.

"Sometimes I despise you," Sherlock said. "Are you sure that you don't have to nip out of the flat for a bit and could you tell me where you hid them before you run out?"

"I don't have to go anywhere. Watch your shows," John said, waving a hand at the telly.

"I'm bored," Sherlock said. "Did you, you know, in the shower?"

"Shh," John said, lifting his book a bit higher.

"Do you really have to do it every single day?" Sherlock said. "Do you have some kind of disorder or something?"

"No!" John lowered the book. "It's easy to think in there and my mind wanders and it happens."

"Well, I think you should abstain," Sherlock said. "I mean, I walk every day, but I can't. So why don't you stop that until I can walk again?" He looked over at him. "Unless you feel you can't go without."

"I can go without," John said. "I'm not an animal. I can control myself." 

"So you're accepting the challenge?" Sherlock said. "Fine. If you don't make it, I get to smoke as much as I want in the flat. If you do make it, what do you want?"

"You stop smoking. For good," John said. 

"That's absolutely fine with me, John Watson. Because I am absolutely certain you will not make it. In fact, I am relatively sure you won't make it more than a day," Sherlock said. He fiddled with the remote. "Shall we change the subject then?"

"I will too," John grumbled, lifting his book again. He was staring at the page, trying to mentally prepare for this. He knew Sherlock was going to pull some kind of trick on him, try and trip him up. He did not want to lose this. 

"John," Sherlock said eventually. "I don't want to annoy you, but at some point today, I am going to have to have a wash and change my clothes. No rush, but I will need to and I will need your help just getting into the bath."

John closed his eyes. There it was. "Sure," he said. "Just let me know when you want to go."

"Whenever, I'm not in a hurry. Why don't you help me to my room and I'll lie there for a bit and you can come get me in an hour or so?" Sherlock said. "The pills have made me a bit sleepy again." 

"Okay," John said, getting up and lifting him again. They made their way slowly to the bedroom where he set Sherlock down on the edge of the bed. 

"Thanks," Sherlock said. "I might rest on your side of the bed," he added, raising his eyebrows slightly. "I'm just teasing you, John. Anyway, give me at least an hour to sleep but after that, whenever you're ready, just come get me. I'll try not to need one every day but I've really got to have a wash and get my pajamas on."

"It's fine, Sherlock. I will come get you soon, okay?" John fixed the pillow under his leg again and left him to sleep. He sat down in his chair and pulled his book up again. He had seen naked bodies before at the surgery. That's what this was going to be. He would settle Sherlock into the tub and leave him to wash up. It would be fine. 

As soon as the door was shut, Sherlock placed himself precariously at the edge of the bed until he could reach his dressing gown on the back of the chair. Then he opened the bottom of the drawer of his cabinet, reaching all the way back until he found was he was looking for and snuck it into his dressing gown pocket. He slid it over his shoulders and lay back to rest on the bed, a pillow tucked under his leg. He got lost in the fog of the painkillers.

John tried to focus on reading but he kept glancing at the clock, waiting for the hour to pass. When it was exactly an hour he told himself to read three more pages so it wouldn't seem to deliberate. He hardly made it to two pages. He got up and knocked lightly on the door, stepping inside. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock had literally just fallen to sleep when he heard John's voice. "Yes, I'm awake, come in," he said. He stretched a little and said, "Could you get out some clean pajamas for me?"

"Did you sleep?" he asked, picking out new pajamas for him. He reluctantly went to the top drawer and grabbed a pair of pants as well.  

"A bit," Sherlock said. "I don't need pants, not with pajamas. Come on, help me up now, let's get this over with."

John put the pants back and gripped Sherlock around the waist, helping him hobble slowly towards the bathroom. "Now, how much help do you actually need?" John asked. 

"Well, I'll need help getting out of these trousers. You'll have to get the scissors probably and just cut the rest of this leg. Then if you can just help me to the side of the tub, I can probably take it from there," Sherlock said. "Why haven't you started the water yet? Just set me down on the toilet until it fills." He rolled his eyes at John.

"I…sorry," John said, realising he could have let Sherlock rest a bit longer while he set up the bath. He started the water and then turned to cut the leg out his trousers, pulling them off. "We don't have to cut the pants -- they'll stretch," he murmured. He helped Sherlock up again and pulled them enough to let him sit down again, pulling them off around the cast gently. He felt the water and turned the hot a bit more. "Should we wrap it? You can't get it wet," he said as he stood up. 

Sherlock had pulled his dressing gown around himself before the removal of his pants to avoid any awkwardness. "No, it'll be fine, just turn off the water," he said in a frustrated voice. "Come on, John, I'm just washing not luxuriating here. If it gets too high then the cast will get wet." He sat back down on the toilet seat as John moved to turn the water off.

"All right, help me up again -- give me your hand," Sherlock said. Sherlock reached for John's wrist instead and when he had it, he twisted it slightly, turning John until it was behind his back. He reached his other hand into his dressing gown pocket and retrieved a pair of handcuffs, sliding one ring round John's wrist and clicking the other closed around the towel rack. "There we go, thanks for that," he said, pushing a hand off John's shoulder to slide himself to the edge of the tub, where he sat down gingerly, and looked over at John.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" John asked angrily. "What is this? What are you doing?"

"Just light bondage, right? No one really gets hurt -- you're not hurt, are you? In fact, it's only one hand, after all. The other one's free -- in case you feel like using it," Sherlock said, smiling devilishly. He stood up slowly and wobbled over to the wall, stretching to turn out the lights. "There we go, that's nicer, isn't it?" he said, wobbling back to the tub. He slipped off his dressing gown and sat on the edge of the tub. He swiveled round to put his left leg into the tub and pressed his left hand hard against the wall as he shifted his backside into the tub, leaving his right leg resting on the side. "Safely in, John," he said. "Everything okay over there?" 

"Where's the key, Sherlock? Let me out," John demanded, refusing to give in to his teasing. He had expected a trick but this was crazy.

"John, I'm in the bath, for god's sake! Why don't you just relax over there? You're stressing me out, and you shouldn't be adding to my stress as I'm recovering." He reached for the soap and starting washing himself. "I know. Would it help if I told you a relaxing story?"

"No. It would help me of you told me where the key was," he said. He refused to look at Sherlock. He knew he was being completely childish but he also knew Sherlock was doing this to win the bet. John would suffer straining in his pants all day before giving him the satisfaction.

"The key's in the bedroom, John -- go ahead and go get it. Oh yes, that's right, you can't, you're handcuffed," Sherlock said. "Why don't you pretend some sexy woman did it instead of me? That'd be nice for you, wouldn't it?"

"No!" John snapped. "That's not the problem here. And what are you going to do? Hobble all the way back to your room after?" He sighed and sank down to the floor, his arm raised above his head and hanging uselessly from the wrist. "You…you're tricking me."

"Of course I'm tricking you, John," Sherlock said. "That's the thing you like, isn't it? Losing just a little bit of control? That seems to be a theme to many of your 'viewing' preferences. Why not just enjoy it? I think you want to. Do you want to?"

"I want to enjoy these things when I know what is going on, when I can trust the person I'm with won't do something stupid," he said, shaking his wrist for emphasis. "I don't think you've quite grasped the difference of fantasy and reality. And besides, you don't care about having fun with me. You care about getting a cigarette."

"Those things are a little bit hurtful, John," Sherlock said. He swallowed. "Fine, you know what? I do want to win --- not because of the cigarettes, well a little bit because of the cigarettes, but mainly because…like I said last night…I find this aspect of you quite intriguing. I'm stuck in this flat, I just thought it was something interesting we could do. I'm sorry." He was -- well, he was sorry John was upset. "But are you being honest that you don't trust me? I know I just tricked you so I appreciate that's working against me at the moment, but you know me, I'm a tricky character, John, but I've never done anything stupid before. Well, I mean, don't you know I'd never intentionally be bad to you?"

John huffed and pulled his knees up, fixing his gaze on them. "Of course I trust you," he grumbled reluctantly. "You could have just said…could have told me you wanted to play a game." It seemed silly calling this a game, but that's exactly what it was.

"But your fantasy is giving up control. If I have to get your permission first, then you still have control. That's why I thought it'd be okay -- I know that fantasy isn't the same as reality, John. Do you really want some stranger coming up and cuffing you -- I doubt it. But it's not a stranger, it's me…so you can just pretend. That was the idea anyway," Sherlock said. "God, are you always so frustrating in your fantasies? You're really frustrating sometimes. I'm surprised the imaginary woman stays around long enough to bring you to orgasm."

"You agree to terms beforehand, Sherlock. And then when it's time for the game I can give up my control knowing you won't do something I don't like. What if the cuff was my limit and I prefer a tie? You can take away someone's control and still make sure they are comfortable."

"Fine…I'm not an expert in these things, John. I should have done more research but I was too busy breaking my leg," Sherlock said. God, he was really bad at apologies. "Sorry, I mean," he said quietly. "Does that mean I need to get up and get the key?"

John rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "No. You don't have to get the key but as you cheated, our deal is off," he said, looking up at Sherlock again.

"Oh my god that is _so_ cheating, John," Sherlock said, slapping his hands into the water. "Unless…have you been wanking this whole time and you just don't want to lose?"

"No! But you cheated by trying to force me into my fantasies. The deal is off, Sherlock."

"You're such a big baby," Sherlock said. He leaned over for a wash cloth. "Do you think it's all right if I just get a cloth a little bit wet and wash my thigh if I'm really, really careful not to get it by the cast?" he asked.

"That should be fine," John agreed. "Just don't let water drip in because you're not getting it changed for a week and it'll be gross."

"Does your little speech on limits indicate that, unlike last night's story, you have done this one in real life?" Sherlock said casually.

John looked down at his knees again. "I've been tied up once, but she didn't listen very well so I've never done it since then," he said. "Like I said, you have to trust the person you're doing it with and I was mistaken to trust her."

"Don't not trust me, John," Sherlock said, "I don't mean just with this, I mean, just…don't not trust me."

"I do trust you, Sherlock. She was…I know it's not like that now. You're not like that. I trust you." John looked up at him again.

"All right," Sherlock went back to washing his leg. In truth it was already starting to be a little itchy under the cast and somehow the motion on his thigh helped that. "It's a shame, though, that you didn't want to hear my story. It was a good one."

"I never said you couldn't tell your story," John said, leaning his head back against the wall.

"Why would you want to hear it? Are you going to do it again? Wanking, I mean?" Sherlock said.

John sighed and closed his eyes. "No. I'm just going to listen like a good boy," he said. He opened one eye to peek at Sherlock before closing it again.

"Well, forget it now," Sherlock said. "I'll keep it to myself. Maybe I'll just lie here and think about it for a few minutes."

"You go through all the trouble of taking me here and you won't even tell me the story?" John asked, opening his eyes again and letting his head rest against the wall. His arm was getting sore being raised like that and he had to stand up again.

Sherlock sat up quickly in the water. "Are you getting it out?" he said.

"No. I'm trying to rest my arm a bit," John said. "If you want to see it you can ask nicely." He flushed lightly and looked at the cuff, pretending to be examining it.

"All right then," Sherlock said, calling his bluff, "let's have a look. After all, you've seen mine. You've _touched_ it."

John looked over at him and narrowed his eyes. "Fine." He started to unbutton his trousers, letting them fall around his ankles. He couldn't help hesitating as he fingered the elastic of his pants. "I'll take these off after you tell me the story," he decided.

"Are you going to want me to touch it?" Sherlock asked.

"Doesn't matter now. You've locked me up all the way over here." John shrugged as if that was Sherlock's punishment now.

"Well, there's one right here I could touch," Sherlock said.

"Big deal -- I've touched that one, too." He raised his brows at Sherlock and smiled.

"Whatever," Sherlock said. "I'm thinking of one of my fantasies now." Sherlock slid his hand under the water and just held himself. He wasn't really thinking of his fantasies -- he was thinking of other things he'd seen that John had looked at online.

John watched his hand disappear under the water and shrugged. "Good for you. Once again you've made the fact that I'm trapped here completely useless." John wondered how much it would take to make him tell the story or hobble for the key.

"You're not completely useless," Sherlock said. "You've got one free hand."

"My one free hand does nothing for you with me being all the way over here," John countered.

"No, but it might do something for you," Sherlock said. "Maybe that's what I'm thinking about right now." He hadn't been but now he was and he felt his cock start to stiffen.

John shook his head. "I can't. I promised I would be a good boy."

"Fine, I'll think of something else," Sherlock said. He hadn't planned on actually doing it again, but now he kind of felt like it. He moved his hand slowly under the water. "Okay, Mister Fantasy Expert, what do you think I should think about? What story should I tell myself?"

"I think you should actually tell me this story you keep throwing around," John said.

"It's about blowjobs," Sherlock said. "I know that's not up to your usual level of perversion. Should I think it in my head or say it aloud?"

"I'll tell you about blowjobs." John shook himself out and took a deep breath. "Pretend we're at the lab and you're doing some nonsense experiment. I'm bored out of my mind."

"Oh so now you're telling the story?" Sherlock said. "You're very changeable, John Watson." He squeezed his hand around his cock under the water and slowly started a movement. This was all quite surprising really; it must be related to his current incapacity because of his leg. It'd been months since this last time he masturbated, but now here he was: doing in twice in less than twelve hours.

But then Sherlock said, "Before you go on, though, I need you to think about something first. Last night my story was about you and an imaginary woman. I wasn't a character in it. The first line of today's story only has two characters so far -- I appreciate another might make an appearance, but somehow I have a feeling that's not going to happen. You are currently trapped in a room where I am naked and have my hand on my cock. Are you sure _you're_ not the one blurring the lines of fantasy and reality?"

"Do you want the story or not?" John asked, sinking onto the floor again. "If it's too odd I can have someone else in the story."

"No," Sherlock said quietly, "I don't want anyone else in the story."

"Okay. So I'm bored out of my mind and you're just sitting at the microscope. So I decide I'm going to have a bit of fun while you work. I come over to the microscope but I duck under the table, working at your trousers. You keep grumbling about me bothering you, but I pull your cock out anyways and take you into my mouth."

Sherlock closed his eyes and imagined it happening. His hand sped up a little in the water.

"You're quiet now -- you have to be or we'll get caught. I keep pulling you into my mouth, but very slowly. Slow back and forth, properly tasting every inch."

Sherlock didn't know if he should say anything. John set this story in the lab, in public, and he'd said last night he would never do anything like that. But this was making Sherlock wish he would. This was blurring the lines a little. Sherlock tried not to think about that and just thought about the story. The warm wetness of the water made it easier to imagine.

"You switch your slide like nothing is going on while I start to move faster, hollowing my cheeks around you and swirling my tongue around the head." John closed his eyes as he spoke, imagining it as well.

Sherlock made a small noise, a moan really, and then he felt his face flush. He thought about pretending he wasn't doing it, but he didn't. "Go on," he said softly.

"Well now that I'm enjoying myself so much, I know that when it's over I'll be bored again, so I slow down and start testing how far I can take you into my mouth. Pushing downwards and swallowing, trying to get to the base." 

Sherlock imagined this in his head, his hand tight and moving faster in the water. "John," he said quietly, "I wish we could kiss."

John opened his eyes and looked over at him, his cheeks flushing lightly. "I'm tied to the wall," he murmured.

Sherlock stopped moving his hand. "It's not fair of me, I know. I know you prefer women, John, but I can't help it. I wish your mouth was kissing mine."

"I prefer you," John admitted. "I want to kiss you." And do so many other things but he didn't mention that out loud.

"The key is about 18 inches away from your right foot, in my dressing gown pocket. I'm not stupid, John," Sherlock said. "You can reach it if you want to or you could ignore that information and continue the story or I can get out of the bath and we won't do this again."

John moved to pull the dressing gown closer. He found the key and stood to unlock the cuff. When he was free, he dropped beside the tub, close to Sherlock's head. He felt a wave of nerves as he leaned in. "Let's kiss then," he murmured.

Sherlock kept one hand on himself but lifted the other from the water and into John's hair, pulling him closer. He kissed John's mouth hard, hungrily.

John moaned and kissed back, bringing his own hand to Sherlock's cheek they kissed. He let his other hand go into the water, wrapping around Sherlock's hand to help him stroke.

"I'm close, John," Sherlock moaned against John's mouth. "Help me come."

"Imagine me -- under that table, taking you all the way in," John said between pecking his lips, moving down to kiss his neck. "The head hitting the back of my throat…"

Sherlock did imagine it and then he thought about John's hand and mouth on him, which were real, and he felt his body start to tense. "John," he called and bucked once more into their hands as he came. He dropped against the back of the tub and was immediately aware of how exposed he was, with his legs separated, thanks to the cast. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. He took a few deep breaths and then asked, "Can you help me up?"

"Don't apologise," John murmured, standing and helping to pull him up onto his good leg. He pulled the plug on the drain before helping him out.

Sherlock leaned over and grabbed his dressing gown which he wrapped around himself before even drying off. "I…don't think this is right, John," he said softly. "Can you please help me to my room?"


	4. It's Not A Game To Me

John nodded, not asking him what wasn't right. He had a feeling but he didn't want to face it. It seemed their sudden arousal for each other came out of nowhere and he'd be a fool to think things could continue on like that wasn't odd. He set Sherlock gently on the side of the bed and stepped back. "Should I go?" He asked, realising he never put his trousers back on.

Sherlock rolled back onto the bed, turning his head away a bit. "I think so, John," he said finally. But before he heard John take a step, he said, "You see, it's not a game to me." 

"What? It's not a game to me either," John said, not moving from where he stood.

"It is, John," Sherlock said. "You like fantasy. That's why you watch those things. It's okay, it's normal, I'm sure. But I'm not really like that myself, I guess. I don't tell those stories to myself -- it doesn't really do much for me except…make me sad that they're not real." He swallowed. "Thank you for kissing me and…making it real for just a minute. But I don't think we should do that anymore."

John looked down, opening and closing his fists. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he said, turning to leave the room. "But you should know that I watch those and imagine us. And in the story you told I imagined you. And in the shower I think about you. And there's a reason I put myself in the story I told." He pulled the door open and stepped into the hall. "That's what I do to pretend it's real." He shut the door and retreated up to his room, flopping down on the bed and covering his face.

Sherlock reached for his phone.

_Are you being truthful? SH_

John sighed loudly thinking there was another bathroom trip. When he saw what it actually was he sat up.

_Of course. -JW_

_Pretending it's real is not the same as wanting it to be real. I like men. I like you, I love you, and I want you in that way. I kept it hidden away because how we were, that was also good. And then last night. And then this morning, the thought of you in the shower. Because now I know what you sound like. I don't know why I did what I did. I think I wanted you to associate me with your fantasies, but I was wrong to force you and now I think I've made it worse for me. SH_

John blinked at the message, rubbing his face hard.

_I love you too. And I've always thought of you but last night made it more. It made me believe we could have more. -JW_

_I only want more if I can have it all. Not just sex. You. SH_

_That's what I want too -- that's what I meant by more. -JW_

_Will you please come to my room? SH_

John set his phone down and made his way back to Sherlock's room. He knocked softly before coming in, suddenly very nervous.

"Come in, John," Sherlock said. "Would you like to lie next to me on the bed? I was thinking about taking a nap, would you stay here with me?"

John climbed up onto the bed and lay beside him, turning on his side to face him. "We're a bit stupid," he smiled, reaching out for Sherlock's hand.

"Speak for yourself," Sherlock said, smiling. He held onto John's hand. He closed his eyes.

John rolled his eyes and smiled wider, but he didn't argue. He knew Sherlock wanted to nap so he stayed quiet, stroking the back of his hand lightly.

Sherlock's head was full of a lot of things but he tried not to think. It was difficult. Then he realised his leg was hurting. "What time is it? I think I might need more pills," he said.

"It's been five hours since we got up, it should be okay to take more," John said. He got up to get another bottle of water, handing him two pills before slipping back into bed. 

Sherlock took the pills and lay back down. "John," he said, looking up at the ceiling. "Do we need to talk about things?"

"I think that's a good idea. There's been some confusion, I think."

"I agree," Sherlock said. "Right now we should only talk about reality, not fantasy. Do you want to start?"

"Well, I'm not sure where to start, exactly. I've been thinking about you this way for a long time…that I love you, you know? I just never thought I'd get the chance to give it a try."

"So you thought it'd be best to keep looking for someone else…a woman?" Sherlock asked.

"No! I haven't been on a date in ages," he said.

"Still…" Sherlock said, softly. "I'll be honest: it's something I'm worried about. Maybe it's because you're curious and I'm here or maybe it's because you haven't been getting that kind of attention elsewhere or maybe it's just because I'm apparently so fucking fascinating, but I'm worried this is a temporary thing. Perhaps you'll meet a woman or perhaps the novelty will wear off…and John…that would crush me."

"I can't tell you to stop being afraid, Sherlock, but I can promise you that I would never hurt you. I mean it when I say I love you and I know it's easy to promise forever but I will prove it, Sherlock."

"I accept that, John," Sherlock said. "Obviously I can't know for sure how I'll be either, but you're more complicated." He turned his head to look at John. "What about the other stuff? The…sex stuff? Thinking about it isn't the same as doing it. If the fantasies are working for you, perhaps it's safer to leave it at that?"

John shook his head. "I'm attracted to you, Sherlock. I want…I want to try everything with you. Not in the lab or at the pub…just us."

"But just to clarify --" Sherlock interrupted himself, "-- I am listening, I promise, I just want to be clear, are you sure it's me? I mean, I wasn't in the army and it's not me in those videos. Are you sure it's not that you want to try a man and I just happen to be the one available to you?"

"No. Sherlock, if I just wanted to try it I would have in the army. I could have found someone to try it with if that's all I wanted. I want you."

"All right," Sherlock said, "I think I have one more question. Let's be honest, John, you nag me a lot. I have grown somewhat accustomed to it. Do you think it's likely to get worse if the nature of a relationship changes? Don't lie."

"I don't think so. In all honesty we were pretty much a couple already. Aren't the sex and the romantic stuff going to be the only new things?"

"Could you clarify what you mean by 'romantic stuff'?" Sherlock asked, making air quotes.

"Telling you that I love you. Cuddling when we watch telly. Sleeping together -- like in the same bed, I mean. Oh! And requesting the candle at Angelo's, of course." John smiled 

Sherlock smiled. "I'm comfortable with all those," he said. "Is there anything you'd like to ask?"

John thought for a moment. "How long have you felt this way?"

"I suppose…since the first case," Sherlock said. "At first I thought maybe I was just seduced by your being unusual, but even when I was certain about it, I did not get the sense you felt similarly."

John looked down at the mattress as he thought about everything that had happened since the first case. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I was so…narrow minded when we first met."

"It's all right," Sherlock said. "I got used to how things were." He squeezed John's hand. "Anything else we should talk about?"

John shook his head. "I am just so happy we finally got here," he smiled. 

"Wait, I just thought of one more," Sherlock said. "Do you think you're just particularly attracted to me because of my cast? Or my dependency? Do you think you'll lose your desire once I am healed?"

"You caught me. I've been hoping this day would come for ages -- hell, I almost pushed you down some stairs the other day when you were looking particularly sexy," he grinned. 

Sherlock laughed. "Okay, we're sorted then -- what do we do now? I mean, do we have to do something to 'mark' the beginning?"

"I'd say last night was a good start," John smiled. He leaned in and pecked his lips. "There. That can be the official."

"Does this mean you haven't bought me a ring? How disappointing -- I was really hoping for a ring," Sherlock said, kissing him back.

"We're dating, not engaged!" John chuckled.

"Well, you should know, I don't put out without a ring," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry, John, I guess it's back to your morning shower routine for a little bit longer."

John got out of bed and went into the kitchen, pulling the tie from the bread bag and shaping it into a circle as he came back. When he climbed back into bed he put it on Sherlock's finger. "There." 

"Are you that desperate for a shag, John?" Sherlock said, laughing. He admired the ring. "Thank you." He gave him a little kiss on his cheek.

"No. But I do want people to know you're all mine," he smiled. 

"I think pretty much everyone is already clear on that," Sherlock said. "Looks like perhaps you were the last to know."

"Shh," John smiled, rolling onto his back. "I know I was being stupid, okay?"

"Will you kiss me like you did in the bath?" Sherlock asked smiling.

John smiled and turned to face him again. "I suppose so, since you asked so nicely." He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Sherlock's, bringing his tongue out to deepen the kiss. 

Sherlock reached into the kiss, his own tongue finding John's. His hands slid into John's hair. "This is good," he moaned softly.


	5. A Good Place To Kick Off Our Imaginations

John nodded and kissed him again, scooting a bit closer to him. He slid his hand down Sherlock's neck and onto his chest.

"John," Sherlock said, pulling back from the kiss. "Since things aren't exactly right with me, we may need to use our imaginations a little until my leg's better."

John nodded. "Let's imagine the day you get it off," he smiled. Then he laughed at his own joke.

"Oh my god, John, do you intend to always make such horrible jokes in bed? Because if you are, I might start wearing earplugs," Sherlock said, pinching John's arm a little.

"I am simply offering a good place to kick off our imaginations. If you don't like it I will gladly keep quiet." John stuck his tongue out and looked away dramatically.

"All right, it's a good place to start, but if you could keep the puns to a minimum, that'd be useful. When we get back from the hospital, the first thing I'm going to want to do is take a bath -- a proper bath, on my own, so I can feel properly clean. Perhaps after that I could go straight into my bedroom and get into bed -- with clean sheets, obviously, nice, soft on my poor leg skin which will not have felt anything but this cast for months on end. Maybe you could come in with a nice cup of tea after my bath?" Sherlock said.

John chuckled at the normalcy of his statements. "You're finally healed and I still have to bring you tea, huh? Okay. I'll come find you after your bath and I'll bring you a fresh mug of tea. And some biscuits."

"Well, I'm describing my fantasy and so far that sounds absolutely perfect," Sherlock said. "Fine, we'll move quickly over the tea and biscuits business. Did I mention I'm in my pajamas? Because I got into my pajamas after my bath -- maybe new pajamas? Nice soft ones that you bought and left folded on my bed so I found them? Whatever, we've had our tea and biscuits and I'm in my pajamas. All right, I've set the scene. What do you think will happen next?"

"I'm going to get into bed with you, and I'm going to admire you while you drink your tea, and I'll graze my fingers over your leg which I can finally touch."

"Is it going to be gross -- all wrinkly and shrunken due to atrophy? Am I going to look like a freak? I don't want you to see me if I look like a freak," Sherlock said.

"No you goof. But it'll be sweaty when they first take it off. It's going to smell," he said, wrinkling his nose. "But that's why you take a bath and now it's your normal, sexy leg again." He smiled.

"Well, I've got some bad news for you, John. The leg in the cast…it's not nearly as sexy as the other leg. I don't want to lead you on -- it's actually the unsexiest leg you've probably ever seen," Sherlock said. He turned his head dramatically. "As soon as you see it, you won't want me anymore!" 

John grinned. "I'll order you a wrap! We can make this work!"

"All right," Sherlock said, turning back. "Or just stay squinting and promise not to look at that leg." He lay his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. Okay, you touch my freakish leg and then what?"

"Well then I'll start kissing your shoulder." He leaned in and did that. "And your neck." He moved up there. "And your cheek. I'm trying to rush you."

"Hold on, I have a question. What we're describing -- is it what we might really do or is it a fantasy, like last night, something to think about but never really do?" Sherlock said. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to accidentally get confused."

"Something we'll really do," John said. "Something I want to do with you."

"Good," Sherlock said. "You were saying something about kissing my neck?"

John smiled and went back to what he was doing, kissing and nipping softly at his neck. "Yes," he murmured. "I am trying to rush you -- finish your tea and pay attention to me."

"John, I finished my tea like an hour ago! Are you having second thoughts?" He raised his hand and squeezed John's hip.

"In the story I just brought you tea! I don't think we should do stories any more. I don't think you can handle it," John said, moving to look at him again.

"I know -- I said we drank and ate them already. Now let's get it started, John, it's been forever for me and I don't rely on everyday wanks like some people," Sherlock said.

"You tell it then, if I'm going too slow!" John laughed, nudging his arm.

"Fine," Sherlock said. "First I would like you to take your clothes off, I'll help if you like, but I'd like you pretty much naked on the bed. Do you want me to take my clothes off as well?"

John could see how Sherlock was confused. John didn't know if he meant in the story or not but he sat up and pulled his shirt off anyways. "Yes, I would like that," he said, sliding out of his jeans as well.

Sherlock started laughing. "I meant in the story! John, all right, listen I am drawing a line here. Right here and now, we're both going to take our clothes off. And then we'll have no clothes on…obviously…I mean, once that happens, then we'll just talk. We'll talk about what we want to do the day my cast comes off. We can hold hands or something but then we'll just talk and see what happens. Okay?" He sat up and pulled his t-shirt off.

John flushed and lay down again, on his back, before taking Sherlock's hand. "Okay. I agree to that. Go on."

"You'll need to help me with my pajama bottoms," Sherlock said, "but don't look." He slipped his hand into his pajamas to cover himself.

"You should stop trying to get dressed with this thing. Just wear your dressing gown or the sheet," he said as he slowly worked the pant leg around the cast. When it was finally off he lay back down and took his hand. "Okay," he smiled, closing his eyes. "Go."

"All right, back to the story, we're naked in the story as well, you've just touched my bare leg, remember? And then I believe you did some kissing on my mouth and neck. We're both up to speed now." He reached for John's hand and held it. "I'd like you to crawl over me so we can kiss. Not on me -- just over me. I want to have to lift my head a bit and you drop yours to be able to kiss. You'll be holding yourself up with your arms and I'll rub them as we kiss, maybe even up to your shoulders." He pictured it in his head.

"Mmm, I like how your hands feel on my skin," John murmured as he pictured it.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "It feels good to touch you. I'm going to lower myself down the bed a little, so I can kiss your neck and chest. Do you think you'd want me to suck on your nipples? I feel like that's something I'd like to do. I could try it now, just to see if you'd like it so we'd know for that day."

John bit his lip and wanted nothing more than to have Sherlock come closer and do that, but he shook his head reluctantly. "Let's save it for that day before we start getting confused again," he said. 

"Fair enough," Sherlock said, a little disappointed. "Well, that's what I'll do and, of course, if you don't like it, you can just say. I'll have my hands on your back now, lower back. I think I'll move down a bit and kiss your stomach. Maybe you could bring your lower body down a little so I don't have to lean up. So I can feel…you against my chest." Sherlock could feel a little twitch in his cock and, for just a second, he worried that if John and he were going to be a couple, they'd do nothing except sex. But then he decided that this was undoubtedly a temporary state of pure sex drive, after being denied so long. So he decided not to worry and assume they'd eventually find a balance. He let himself enjoy the feeling and slid his free hand to his own hip, just to feel a touch there.

"I'll probably be squirming for friction," he murmured, thinking about Sherlock's lips on his lower stomach. "I'll put my fingers in your hair as you kiss me."

"I think I'd like that," Sherlock said, as he thought about it happening, knowing he'd really like that. "If you sat up a little on my chest, maybe I could put my mouth on you. Do you think you'd be hard or would you want me to stroke you a little?"  
  
"I think I would be hard," John admitted, feeling a little bit of that now. "I really like when you kiss me," he smiled. 

"I think I'll kiss you there then," Sherlock said, imagining it. "Soft, little kisses first but then licks as well and I think I'd want to do more. I'd want to feel you in my mouth, make you wet with my tongue. Could you hold yourself for me as I sucked on you?" Sherlock was definitely hard now and he shifted his hips a little, wishing he didn't have that bloody cast on.

John instinctively wrapped his fingers around the base. "Yes," he breathed. "I could do that."

"It'll kind of be an awkward position to take you all the way in, and besides, this is just the start of things so I think I'll just spend a little more time getting to know you with my tongue, getting to know the feel and the taste. But I'd also be hard myself, John, so I'll need some attention there next," Sherlock said. Sherlock slid his own hand around his cock, just holding it.

John hummed softly. "I'll be glad to give you attention too, Sherlock. I'll use my hand first, slowly. Then my mouth because I really want to taste you as well."

"Am I going to be lying on my back or do you want me to move?"

"On your back because after I want to taste the rest of you and I'm going to move up to do it." John was curling his fingers lightly now against his shaft.

"John," Sherlock said, almost in a whisper. "Is it all right if I touch myself while we keep talking? I really want to."

John nodded. "I really want to as well," John murmured. "We both can."

Sherlock started a slow stroke -- he needed the movement but wanted to stay present for the story. "I don't want you to do it like in the videos, John, I want you to go slow with your mouth. I don't want to make you…I want you to enjoy it."

"I will be slow," John promised. "Nice and easy movements along your shaft, memorising every inch with my tongue."

"That sounds nice," Sherlock said. He slid his hand slowly all the way up and down his cock, imagining it was John's mouth. "Would you mind if I put my hand in your hair while you're doing it? I won't push, I promise."

John smiled. "I think that would feel really nice," he murmured.

"John," Sherlock moaned a little bit. He could feel that his hips were rocking a little on the bed, but he stopped himself -- he could so easily let go but he didn't want to yet. "What next?" he asked.

"Well, I said I wanted to taste the rest, so I'm going to reluctantly pull off and start moving upwards. I'm going to kiss and nip and lick every inch, starting at your hips. Then your lower belly and your stomach and your chest and your shoulders and your neck."  He was talking quietly now, his sentences a bit broken between his soft moans.

"Put your hand on me while you do," Sherlock said. "Please, I mean, if you don't mind, will you touch me while you kiss me?"

"Of course," John murmured. He stroked himself faster as he thought about it. "I can hardly keep my hands off of you," he smiled. He switched hands and brought his free one over to hold Sherlock's hand again.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand. "I'll be honest, John, the first time…especially the day my leg is finally healed…I'll probably have already come by now. I feel like coming right this minute."

John nodded. "I know. I'm close too." He was breathing hard, stroking faster now. "Imagine --instead of my hand, I grind on you, my cock on yours…"

"John!" Sherlock said, a bit surprised. But it definitely seemed to work a treat because only a few seconds later, he called John's name and came, letting his hips jerk hard into his hand.

"Fuck," John moaned, turning to watch him ride out his orgasm. John huffed out a hard breath and came himself, calling for Sherlock.

Sherlock turned to John and reached over and kissed him hard as he came. He fell back on his pillow. "That was pretty sexy," he said, chuckling a little.

John chuckled breathlessly and nodded. "Yes. That was very sexy," he smiled. He stroked Sherlock's hand with his thumb, closing his eyes happily.

"I need to nap now, I'm afraid," Sherlock said, "I won't when we really do it, I promise, but it's just, you know, the medication. Will you stay here with me?"

"Yes. I might take a small nap with you," John said with a small sigh. "When you're better I'm going to curl up to you then lay on top of you," he smiled softly.

Sherlock slid his arm around John's shoulder, pulling him towards him. "Come cuddle me," he said drowsily.

"I don't want to hurt you," John protested, scooting a bit closer. He turned onto his side so that his forehead was pressed against Sherlock's side.

"John," Sherlock said softly. "Do you think one day we'll do…proper sex?"

"Yes," John said against him. "You have to get better first. Or else it would take some maneuvering and even then you might get hurt."

"I’ve done it once with two broken legs," Sherlock said. "I'm teasing, of course. But you've never done it before, you said."

John opened his eyes at the first comment and grinned at the second. He settled closer and closed his eyes again. "I haven't, no. But that doesn't mean anything -- just a few more nerves than I'd like, but it'll be good."

"It's just…a bit of pressure on me, I guess," Sherlock said. "Maybe I won't do it like you like."

John propped himself on his arm to look down at him. He moved some hair from Sherlock's face and smiled. "I'm sure I'll like whatever you do to me. It's going to be good," he repeated.

Sherlock said, "Does that mean you want me to do it to you?"

John shrugged. "I've thought of both ways in the shower. We can mix it up," he grinned. "It's not like we're only going to do it once."

"Well, we'll see…you might not be into it," Sherlock said. "You have to say if you don't like it. I hope you do, obviously, but promise you'll say if you're not into it."

"I'm not going to lie to you," John promised. "I don't want to ruin this now that we finally got it going," he smiled.

"Good," Sherlock said. "I hope you do like it. I kind of wish we could do it right now."

"I know," John said as he lay down again. "Remember that next time you ignore a 'wet floor' sign," he teased.

"I didn't ignore it. Ignore implies that I saw it and chose to disregard it. I didn't see it at all," Sherlock said. "Do not blame the victim. I'm thinking about suing that hospital."

"You're admitting to missing something? Are you sure you didn't hit your head?" John grinned.

"In truth, I'm not totally convinced it was there," Sherlock said. "As far as I know, you're making up its existence totally, just to make me feel bad. Which is quite cruel when you think about it."

"I have better things to do with you than try to make you look like an idiot," John laughed.

"Like make me a cup of tea? If we're not going to sleep, I could use a cup of tea. Is it time for more pills?" Sherlock asked.

"No. No tea, because I really am sleepy and would like a nap if you ever stop talking," John smiled. "And no pills until we wake up."

"Fine," Sherlock said. "So stop talking and let me sleep." He squeezed John's shoulder a little, pulling him closer. He tipped his head against the pillow and tried to fall asleep.

When it was quiet John dozed against Sherlock's shoulder, snoring softly. He had a strange dream about Sherlock's leg hoisted up in a sling and them trying to have sex around it, eventually giving up and fighting about it. He woke up very suddenly and kissed Sherlock's forehead lightly. He slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen to make tea. It was still too early for the medicine and he wondered if he should let him sleep until it was time, but then the tea would get cold and Sherlock would hate that more. "Look what I made," he sang into his ear.

"Hmmm?" Sherlock made a noise. He opened his eyes and looked at John. He smiled sleepily. "Thank you, you're a nice person, John Watson." He took a sip. "Why aren't you naked anymore? Are you breaking up with me?" He smiled again.

John rolled his eyes and sipped at his own tea. "Unlike you I prefer to have clothes on when I am roaming through the flat," he teased. He was just about to mention why when there was suddenly no need.

"Boys?" Mrs Hudson called out. John set his mug down and scooted off of the bed. He came out into the sitting room to greet her.

"I was just fixing the pillow under his leg," John said, a little too defensively. He didn't want to hide the relationship but starting it off by telling her that they were sleeping together seemed like a bit much.

Mrs Hudson looked at John strangely and then moved towards Sherlock's bedroom, calling his name.

"Um…" John mumbled and followed her, hoping that Sherlock was covered up.

Sherlock looked up to see Mrs Hudson at his bedroom door. "Mrs Hudson," he said, "you shouldn't just be bursting in. I'm nude under this blanket you know."

"Sherlock," she said, scolding him. "I see your injury had not made you any less unpleasant. I hope you're not driving John mad with your demands."

Sherlock smiled and set down his mug. "I don't know if I am. Let's ask him. John," he said, glancing up. "Am I driving you mad with my desires? Did I say desires? I meant demands. Am I driving you mad with my demands, John?" He picked up his mug and took another sip.

John had to fight the urge to cover his face. "Absolutely mad -- I'm about to move out," he teased.

Mrs Hudson looked between them, raising her brows. "Sherlock, honestly!"

"Mrs Hudson," Sherlock asked, "Did you come up here to offer to look after me? If so, it's time for some food so I can take more pills. If not, perhaps you should let John get to his work because I need him to do some things for me." He spread his hands out over the bed, smoothing out the blanket.

That time John did cover his face, groaning as Mrs Hudson pat his arm. "Don't hurt his leg, dear," she said before turning to leave.

John looked up at Sherlock, shaking his head. "You're awful," he said.

"Shush," Sherlock said. "Leave me alone now, please. I need more pills but I really need to sleep and your being here distracts me too much. So go be sexy in another room, please."

"You're not getting any pills yet," John said. "You still have an hour to go and you’re going to regret that when I'm gone." He left the room, waving without looking back.

"I already do regret it!" Sherlock called. "Come do sex things with me!"

John grinned from where he stood, halfway to the sitting room. "Nope. I have to do them here in the sitting room -- you're really missing out on some quality stuff!"

Sherlock smiled and rested back on the bed. This was an unusual turn of events. One he had thought about, even wished for, but one which he truly had thought would never happen. It was good, though, right now it was very good. He hoped it would stay like that. He fell to sleep with that thought.

John waited for a bit for his response and when none came he crept back to the bedroom. He smiled when he saw Sherlock sleeping, quietly taking the mugs back to the sink and sinking down on the sofa to watch some telly.


	6. Not What I Say, What I Do

And this is how it continued for a few weeks until John had to go back to work. He was now sleeping every night in Sherlock's bed, even if they weren't telling each other any stories.

Sherlock went to bed that night feeling a bit worried: they had managed to stay in their own little bubble since his accident and all of this had started, but John was going back to work, going back to the normal, and perhaps everything would seem better the old way, and he would change his mind about what was going on. John was in his own room laying out his clothes for the next day, and Sherlock waited nervously for him to come to bed.

John looked at his clothes on the bed before folding them right back up and carrying them down with him. When he came into Sherlock's room, he put them on the chair in the corner. "No sense in me walking all the way up to my room in the morning," he said as he got into bed.

Sherlock watched John walk around and get into the bed. "John," Sherlock said. "I want to do something tonight we've not done before." He didn't say what or why.

"What's that?" John asked, turning on his side to face him.

"I like what we do -- I like your stories as well as mine, I like thinking that one day we'll do them all, and I like being next to you, hearing you when you come. I know why we're waiting -- it makes sense. But," Sherlock said. "tonight, I want to touch you and make you come. You've done it to me -- I know it was kind of different that time, before we talked and decided, but I don't want you to touch yourself. I want it to be my hand. Please."

"Oh," John said a bit relieved, having been nervous about what he was going to suggest. "Okay," he agreed, scooting a bit closer. "Will there be a story as well?"

"No," Sherlock said. "It'll just be me -- my hands. Not what I say, what I do." He did his best to roll on his side. "Could you take your pajamas off for me? I'd like you to have no clothes on and turn to face me."

John did as Sherlock asked, slipping out of his clothes and turning to face him.

Sherlock lifted his hand to John's face and gave him a long, slow kiss. He pressed in his tongue, tasting John, as if he were exploring what it was like to be inside him. His hand snuck around John's back as his mouth dipped to John's neck and then his ear. "I know we're still limited, John, but I want more. Let me make love to you the only way I can right now." He dropped his hand to John's hip and kissed his mouth again. Then he reached for John's cock and started a slow stroke. God it felt so good to touch John -- not just watch or listen, but to touch.

John shivered lightly at his words, nodding and moving to kiss him again, bringing a hand up to his cheek. "Your hand feels good," he murmured.

"I want it to," Sherlock said, moving to suck lightly on John's neck. "I want you to feel better than you believed you could." He tightened his grip and moved just a little faster. "Put your hand in my hair, John. It makes me feel like I'm yours when you do that."

John slid his hand up into his hair, gripping it a bit hard.

"Don't think about anything, don't think of a story, just feel my hand," Sherlock said. John was already leaking, and Sherlock used it to help smooth his movement as he started to pump even faster. 

John nodded, moaning softly. "I'm only thinking about you." Sherlock's hand felt amazing, mostly because it was Sherlock's hand. 

Sherlock kissed John's mouth hard, sucking on his bottom lip. He used his good leg to press against the bed, rocking it slightly as he continued to move on John. Then he wiggled slightly, moving himself lower, and sucked on one of John's nipple, pulling it into his mouth and nipping it softly with his teeth.

"God, Sherlock!" John moaned, arching out to his mouth. Heat pooled suddenly into his groin as he was surprised by the action, not having expected anything like that. "That's so good," he said, gripping his hair harder. 

"It's nicer touching you," Sherlock moaned softly. "I've thought about this for so long…" He moved to John's other nipple. He tried to press himself against John a little, though it was awkward with his cast, as he continued stroking John.

"C-careful," John moaned, bucking into his hand now. "M'close, Sherlock." He opened his eyes and looked down, watching Sherlock's hand moving over him. And then he dragged his eyes up along Sherlock's body, meeting his eyes. "Sherlock," he breathed, coming into his hand.

Sherlock watched John's orgasm hit and pressed his mouth against his skin, mumbling, "John, that was so beautiful." Then he reached down quickly and stroked himself a few times until he too came, their wetness mixed now on his hand.

John caught his breath with quick, short breaths. "You were lovely," he murmured. "That was fantastic."

"Good," Sherlock said, wiggling back up. "I want you to have something to think about when you're at work tomorrow."

John smiled. "I would have been thinking about you anyways," he said. "But of course you can never have too much to think about." 

Sherlock turned back a little on the bed, groaning as he shifted his leg. He leaned over and got some tissues, passing some over to John, before wiping himself up.

John wiped himself off before tossing everything in the bin. "Do you need another pillow or any medicine?" 

"No, my pain's much better," Sherlock said, "it was just awkward, lying on it. Besides, I want to save those pills to abuse at a future date." He looked over at John and smiled at him.

"As if I would let you," John chuckled. "We're returning them when we get that cast off." 

"I know it's better -- I can wobble on my own now, I just wish it were coming off tomorrow," Sherlock said, "I'm bloody sick of it."

"I know. I never thought I would see you out for the count," John smiled lightly. "I don't like it."

"I've not been out!" Sherlock said defensively. "I've been working on the laptop and in here," he pointed to his head. "Besides, did it ever occur to you this whole thing was just a fantastically complicated ploy to get you into bed? I knew you'd fall for the old helpless patient routine."

"Oh please! I'll admit that the broken leg sort of pushed things along but don't pretend you planned this!"

"Shush," Sherlock said. "You need to go to sleep now so you can get up early and leave me all on my own." He pretended to go to sleep.

"Will you text me?" John asked.

"Do you really have to ask that question?" Sherlock said. "It's likely you'll have a text from me by the time you step out onto the pavement."

John grinned. "Good. I will text you too and the day will pass before we know it."

"Wake me up before you leave and I'll use the toilet. But I'm not going to go while you're gone," Sherlock said. "As a protest."

"Okay. You're such a rebel. I like it," John chuckled.

"If I annoy you enough, you'll stay home with me again the next day," Sherlock said, before yawning a little. He snuggled down more in the bed.

"And what of my other patients?" John asked, speaking quieter now.

"Be serious, John," Sherlock said, "Do you think they are of any concern to me?"

John smiled wider. "They should be -- they help pay for half of the rent. And food. And tea."

"Go to sleep, John Watson," Sherlock said, leaning over and kissing him lightly.

"Good night, Sherlock," he said quietly. He closed his eyes and was almost asleep when he remembered the alarm. He set it, curled close again, and drifted off again.

Sherlock heard John's alarm before John did. "Dr Watson, you're needed at the surgery," he whispered into his ear and then licked his face.

John groaned and pushed him away, dragging himself into a sitting position. He yawned and stretched as he stood. "Me first," he murmured, heading into the bathroom himself. After brushing his teeth he came back for Sherlock.

Sherlock let John pull him up. "I can get myself up, you know," Sherlock said. He smiled at him. He leaned on John until they got to the bathroom. He went in, went to the toilet, washed his face and brushed his teeth. He went out to the kitchen and kissed John properly. "Good morning, I wish you weren't going to work."

"I know, but I have to. You're almost there," John said, preparing some toast for breakfast.

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at John. He sat down at the table and pouted. He reached for his phone and sent John's phone a message.

_I'm pouting. SH_

_If you ask nicely your boyfriend might kiss it away. -JW  
_

_He's leaving me because he's mean. SH_

John rolled his eyes but smiled at the phone.

_Perhaps you're being a bit hard on him. -JW_

"John," Sherlock said, setting his phone down. "You can trust me. I'll be normal today, I promise."

"You are never normal, love." John took a bite of his toast before coming over to kiss him. "I'll see you later, okay?" He smiled and kissed him again.

"I'm not going anywhere," Sherlock said. "I hope you have a good day but that you hate it and want to come home soon." He watched him walk out. Then he picked up his phone.

_I've fallen. I broke my other leg. My hair's on fire. A swarm of wasps got into the flat. Come home. SH_

_Go lie down. -JW_

_You're mean. I'm going to go wank. SH_

_PS Delete that text after reading, please. SH_

_I won't because now you're being mean. -JW_

_Please. I'll be good until you come home. I just miss you. SH_

_I miss you, too. That's why you shouldn't tease me. -JW_

_Fine. I'm going to take a nap. Stop bothering me. SH_

_I love you. -JW_

_Mutual. SH_

_Don't be so romantic, I almost fell from swooning. -JW_

_I'm sleeping now. SH_

Sherlock did go to his bedroom to lie down for a bit. He fell asleep surprisingly quickly.

John stuffed his phone into his pocket and continued seeing patients, watching the clock as it dragged along. It seemed like an eternity when he was finally making his way home. He didn't text Sherlock, intent on surprising him.

Sherlock rolled over and looked at the clock. He closed his eyes and tried to make John come home.

John came into the flat quietly, climbing up the stairs. He took off his jacket and shoes before calling through the flat to Sherlock's room. He peeked in and wondered how long he'd been asleep.

Sherlock looked up at the door and at John. He knew John's appearance had nothing to do with his wishing it, but still he was glad. He stretched himself a little. "I'm sorry," he said, "I should have had tea made for you."

John waved his hand to dismiss that. "Did I wake you? How do you feel?"

"I'm just glad you're home, it was horrible without you," Sherlock said. "Will you come lie by me as I wake up. I need you to get next to me or I might go a bit mad. I promise I won't be like this everyday, it's just I'm used to you being here all the time." He smiled softly. "Please."

John smiled wider and nodded. That was another thing to get used to -- Sherlock being sentimental, admitting that he needed John. John climbed up on his side and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around him. "I'm home now," he said pointlessly.  

Sherlock squeezed John to him. "I'm sorry for being . . . needy. I just get used to things and I don't like it when it changes." He felt his face flush a little. He tried to change the subject. "Did you think about last night at all?" he asked.

"All day," John smiled. "And I really don't mind, Sherlock. It's nice." 

"Well, we'll see," Sherlock said. "It feels a bit strange to me. But let's not talk about that. Tell me about your day. Nothing happened here."

"Well, I had several flus, a sprained arm, a kid who swallowed a few buttons, and then more flus." He shifted closer and kissed Sherlock's shoulder. "It was a long, boring day."

"If I had known swallowing buttons would have demanded your attention, I would have done that myself," Sherlock said. "What are we doing for dinner? I'm a little hungry -- this is unrelated to the button comment obviously."

"Please don't start eating buttons," John chuckled. "Do you want me to make something or are you craving something specific we could order?"

"Let's just get some Chinese and if there's any left, I can eat it tomorrow," Sherlock said, fiddling with John's hair. "There's only two days left until I get my cast off, you know. I'm very much looking forward to it, for a variety of reasons. But I wanted to say, you know, we don't have to do anything when it comes off. I don't want you to feel obliged. Or at least we don't have to that day. I just don't want you to feel pressured."

"There really is no pressure, Sherlock, unless you're just reflecting and you're feeling pressured." He pecked Sherlock's cheek and sat up. "Please don't feel pressured, okay?" He squeezed his hand to reassure him.   

"I don't think I do," Sherlock said. He swallowed. "Well, a little, I mean, since I know I'll be the first. But not too much pressure, I don't think. I hope I'm also the last." He leaned over and kissed John back.

"Don't feel any pressure -- you've already made me come so many times," he smiled. "Let me go order the food before we starve to death and then we can keep chatting about this." He went into the sitting room and placed the order, noting the time it would be delivered before coming back into the bedroom. 

When he returned, Sherlock said, "We don't have to keep talking about it, John. I guess the only thing I'm thinking of is that I just don't want it to seem awkward when we get home from the hospital. Like either one of us is thinking, we've got to do it immediately. I'm not saying I won't want to that night or I won't want to immediately -- I might, in fact, I probably will, but I don't want it to seem forced like that. That's all. Okay?"

"Okay. Let's just wait for that day -- you might not even feel up to it yet. Or you might want to go for a walk alone. Everything will be . . . cool," John grinned. 

"John Watson," Sherlock said, "Have you ever known me to want things to be 'cool'?" He smiled. "We'll be fine, we'll be as we are, we'll be us." He opened his arms up so John would come get close to him. "In less than a minute, I'll have an erection. Why don't you come sit on my lap and move yourself about on it?" His smile was now quite cheeky.

"I've thought about that several times," John admitted. "I don't want to hurt your leg."

"Don't sit on my leg then," Sherlock said, pulling on John. "Come on, it's big now and it needs your body pressed against it."

John moved carefully, climbing into his lap and putting most of his weight onto his hands until he could gently lower down on top of him. "Tell me if anything hurts," he murmured, moving his hips carefully. 

"Of course I will," Sherlock said. He put his hands on John's hips and started moving them a bit. "Mmm…that feels nice. Reach down and kiss me."

John leaned forward and kissed him, still moving his hips and getting harder himself. The contact was fantastic. 

Sherlock reached down and just palmed John through his jeans. He tried to rock his own hips as much as he could. "Your body feels so good against mine," he moaned a little. "I can't wait to touch everywhere -- taste everywhere."

John nodded, kissing his mouth again and thrusting against his hand with small pants.

"I…it feels good," Sherlock moaned. He put his other hand on John's hips, pulling him, helping the movement. "A little faster…" he said. He felt almost like a teenager -- he knew it wasn't going to be long.

There was a sizable bulge in John's jeans now as he pushed it harder and faster against Sherlock. "Haven't done this in a long time," he smiled, pecking Sherlock's mouth and neck. 

"Lie down flat," Sherlock said, pulling his leg to the side in a kind of awkward way. "Here, lie down against me -- just keep your legs together and I'll keep my bad one out of the way." He wrapped his arms around John and did his best to lift and grind against him. "Fuck, I want to come like this," he said, burying his face against John's neck.

John moved against him, panting heavier now. "Me too…God Sherlock…it's good," he moaned, slowing down so he could properly press against him. 

Sherlock moaned, "Keep going." The bed was rocking and he gripped his arms around John as tightly as he could. "I'm so close."  
  
"Together," John moaned softly.

"God, John," Sherlock said, straining to lift up his hips as his body froze. It felt like he couldn't breathe for a moment and then his body jerked. "Fuck, John…"

John groaned as he came, pushing into Sherlock and moaning for him. "You're so sexy," he murmured.

"I know I am," Sherlock said, laughing aloud. "I don't doubt that having pants full of come is what makes me so sexy. I'm sure that's what most teenaged boys believe."

John chuckled breathlessly and carefully settled against him. "You're always sexy."

"Shush," Sherlock said. "Actually I think I just heard someone downstairs -- could the food be here?"

"Shit," John grinned, climbing off of him slowly. He checked his trousers, hurried downstairs and paid for the meal. 

"I've been knocking for ten minutes," the delivery guy grumbled with a pointed look.  

John sighed and rolled his eyes, giving him an extra tip before getting forks and water. He climbed back into his own side of the bed and handed Sherlock his box. 


	7. It's Unlike Me But I Can't Help It

"I'm going to get fat, thanks to your shagging," Sherlock said. "I think I've been more hungry than usual. Or maybe it's just boredom -- not because of you, I mean, because of the leg." He put some food into his mouth.

"We'll exercise you with sex all over the flat," John grinned. 

"Hmmm…once we start doing it properly, I'd prefer to stay in the bedroom, in the dark with no noise and a shower straight after," Sherlock said.

John glanced over. "That sounds a bit dull," he admitted. 

"Well, you're the pervert in this relationship," Sherlock said, pulling a face.

"I'm not perverted," John countered. "Maybe we're watching a film and we start kissing on the sofa and neither of us wants to move? Or we're having dinner and I drop my fork and just nip under the table for a bit?" he smiled.  

"How can we have sex if neither one of us wants to move? John, do we need to have a talk?" Sherlock asked, smiling.

"I meant we don't want to waste time getting to the bedroom!" John laughed. 

"John, sex is not a race!" Sherlock said, feigning shock.

"There's just no talking to you," John sighed dramatically. 

"I like your talking to me, I like when you tell me sexy stories," Sherlock said, reaching over and squeezing John's thigh.

"Are you going to need a shower after?" John teased. 

"God, John, actually, you know what? I'd love a shower. I mean, I'm normally a bath person, but I could really go for a shower. When we fuck for the first time, let's have a shower afterwards," Sherlock said.

John's brows furrowed and he looked down at his food, mixing it awkwardly. He couldn't tell if Sherlock was still joking. He didn't say anything to that, eating quietly. 

"Are you mad at me for saying 'fuck'?" Sherlock asked.

"What? No! I thought you were mad because I was teasing you for being dull," John said. 

"What? I've moved past that. I'm not dull in bed, I should know -- I've seen it with my own eyes. I'm talking about not being able to take a shower because of this stupid cast," Sherlock said, touching John's leg again.

"You're the one that brought up showering right after!"

"I know because we'll be sticky and sweaty after it!" Sherlock said. "John, why are we getting so confused tonight? Is it because you went to work and now you've lost your patience with me?"

"No! I-I don't know. You don't have to go shower _right_ after,” he shrugged. 

"Of course, I didn't really mean right after -- I was joking when I said that earlier. I just mean," he put his hand on John's thigh again and slid it into his lap. "Wouldn't it be nice to kiss in the shower? I think it sounds quite nice."

"Yeah," John nodded. "It does sound nice but you got all closed up when I suggested other places." 

"I didn't mean to -- I was only teasing. We can do it wherever you want. I like moving about the flat. Last winter I masturbated underneath your bed almost every single day after you'd gone to work," he said, smiling so John would know he was teasing. 

John opened his mouth and closed it again, shoving his arm. "Don't tease me! You can't tell me you're feeling pressured and nervous and then say something like that!" 

"Not too pressured and nervous, just a little -- you know because it's the first time. I just didn't want you to feel like we have to on Wednesday. That's all, I promise," Sherlock said, rubbing his hand on John's back a bit.

"I know that. I want to on Wednesday. I want to now!" John sighed and looked over at him. "I feel like you are trying to convince yourself that we _have_ to, and I want you to know that we don't. Whatever happens that day will be okay."

"Shush, let's stop talking about it. Wednesday is just the first day we can. If we feel like we want to, we will. That's it. How are your underpants anyway?" Sherlock said, pulling a face at him.

"I need to change them. Or get out of them all together," John smiled. He went back to eating his meal. 

"After we're done eating, you should just put your pajamas on. We could watch a film or something," Sherlock said. "You should have an early night after working all day."

"That sounds nice," John smiled. "Do you have a film in mind?"

"No, you should pick," Sherlock said. "Let me look after you for a little while."

John thought for a moment. "Well, there's a new Star Trek movie out -- have you seen the others?"

"I have not," Sherlock said. "I saw the old television shows, though. Why don't we watch it? If I get confused, I'm sure you'll take great pleasure in explaining it to me." Sherlock pulled himself up, wobbling a little. "I can carry my stuff to the kitchen, but I'd better not risk trying to carry more," he said.

"Just stay right there," John said, taking both. "I'm going to put pajamas on and grab my computer and I will be right back."

"Well, let me go to the bathroom. I want to brush my teeth and clean up the mess in my pajamas," Sherlock said. He made it to the bathroom and back to his room before John returned.

John changed into something more comfortable and grabbed his computer before returning to Sherlock's room. "I bet you're dying to do things all on your own again," he smiled as he searched for the movie. 

"I am," Sherlock said. "Except for the orgasms obviously." He smiled. "But I will be glad to just be normal again." He slid under the covers. "Should we turn the lights out or keep them on?"

"Off, the movie will be better that way," he smiled. He settled under the covers with him and set up the computer between them. "Can you see okay?" 

"I can," Sherlock said. "Thanks -- hey, I was supposed to be looking after you and now you're being all thoughtful to me. Here," he snuck his arm around John's back. "Let me cuddle you."

"Well, it's hard with the computer," John said, but he scooted over anyways, pushing the computer down more so the upper half of his body could move closer to Sherlock. He lay his head against Sherlock's shoulder, but it was uncomfortable. He paused the movie. "Hold on," he said. He shifted the computer and then moved to lay flush against Sherlock's side. He put his head on his shoulder and draped an arm over him. "Can you see now?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, "yes, this is nice." He lifted a hand to stroke John's hair. "I love you, you know," he said quietly.

John smiled, nuzzling his head on Sherlock's chest a bit. "You're all right, too, I suppose." He smiled wider, lifting his eyes as he waited for Sherlock's response. 

"Thank you," Sherlock said. He turned and watched the film. "I'm already confused by this film."

John kissed his chest through his shirt. "And what are you confused about?"

"Nothing," Sherlock said, "I was just giving you a chance to show off and explain things to me."

John paused the movie and gave him a quick rundown. "Okay. Now let's watch," he smiled, playing the movie again.

"Thanks," Sherlock said, turning to the computer. "Did explaining that give you an erection?"

"Raging -- I can hardly contain myself," he grinned. "Is that what gets you going? Explaining things to me? That's why you keep me around, isn't it?" 

"You figured it out, John," Sherlock said. "Every time I've had to explain something to you, even on crime scenes, my cock has been rock hard."

"I knew there was a reason you talked so fast. And ditched me. You were running off to wank," he explained. 

"Nope," Sherlock said, "I just held it in, waiting for that moment when I'd break my leg and get an erection with you in my bed."

John smiled. "I should have pushed you down the stairs if that's what we were waiting for."

"Don't be so violent," Sherlock said, "I'm trying to cuddle you. I'm trying to be sweet."

"Yes, I'm sure you are."

Sherlock turned John's head toward him and kissed him hard. "Stop talking now," he said. "This is the greatest film I've ever seen and your wittering on is distracting me."

"If you're going to keep shutting me up with kisses like that I'll never stop talking," John chuckled, settling back to watch the movie. 

"When the film's over, we should kiss a little before going to sleep, okay?" Sherlock said.

"Okay," John nodded against him. He curled his fingers lightly, rubbing Sherlock's side as they watched. 

About half way through the film, Sherlock started to get a little drowsy. He slid down the bed a little, but then the laptop shifted. "Sorry," he said. "I just want to lie a little flatter."

John shifted with him and fixed the laptop. "It's all right -- do what you need to so you'll be comfortable. It's almost done," he said. 

"I'm good now," Sherlock said. He went back to the movie, brushing his fingers over John's arm.

When the movement started John closed his eyes and marveled at what was happening -- cuddling with Sherlock, pressed against his body, sharing his warmth. It was almost unbelievable. He opened his eyes and physically looked at him, looked where his cheek was resting on his chest. John stilled his own hand and simply held him. 

"Are you thinking about ways to kill me?" Sherlock asked. "You're looking at me funny."

John looked back to the movie and shook his head. "I am not thinking of ways to kill you," he smiled. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "I confess, I'm thinking about kissing you after the film."

"Yeah? And what are you thinking?" John asked quietly. 

"Just about holding your head, kissing your mouth softly, maybe a little on your neck as well. _Romantic_ kisses," Sherlock said, "but don't make fun of that, please."

"Why would I make fun of that?" John asked, curling against him even more. "I think that sounds really nice."

"Because it's unlike me, I guess," Sherlock said. "But I can't help it." He dipped his chin and put a kiss on the top of John's head.

"Well, I like it," he murmured, kissing Sherlock's chest again.

"I'm glad," Sherlock whispered, "I worry I don't do it right."

John kissed his chest harder and shook his head. "Never worry about that," he murmured. "There isn't a right and wrong way, everyone is different," he said. 

"We'll see," Sherlock said. He fiddled with John's hair through the remainder of the film. When it was finished, he let John shutdown the laptop and then lay quietly in the bed as John got himself comfortable. "John," he finally said, "I may have to do some talking during the kissing."

John turned on his side to face him, smiling as he moved closer to Sherlock. "What kind of talking?" he asked, pressing his mouth to Sherlock's. 

"Not precisely our usual type of story," Sherlock said, pressing into John. "You can tell me to stop if it makes you feel uncomfortable." He moved his mouth to John's earlobe which he sucked on lightly.

John closed his eyes. "Okay," he agreed. He pushed his hand into Sherlock's shirt and rubbed his side slowly. 

Sherlock quickly kissed John's mouth and then moved his mouth back to John's ear. "Obviously, I know I love you…I have from the start. But I've never been in love with anyone, John Watson. Never…but I think I might be in love you." He kissed the side of John's face, kind of kissed, mostly just moved his mouth of John's cheek. 

"I am in love with you as well," John agreed, his hand still moving along Sherlock's skin. 

Sherlock moved his mouth back to John's ear. "I want to make you happy -- your happiness is important to me." He ran his hands up John's back. "I worry how this has changed me, just a little I worry, because it's so big. Because this feeling is so big." He now went back to kissing John's mouth, softly, slipping his tongue in, tasting John.

"But it feels good, right?" John asked between the kissing, his pauses stretched out as he reluctantly pulled back to speak. 

"Yes, it feels good," Sherlock said. "But that's unusual…to feel so good." He moved to kiss John's neck. "It feels better than good, John, it's the greatest feeling I've ever felt."

"I know it's scary," he said, feeling the same way himself. "But we're doing it together so it's going to be okay."

"But…" Sherlock said, even though he really didn't have an argument for that. He kissed John again on the mouth, sucking softly on his bottom lip. He moved his hands in a circle on John's back. Then he pulled back and lay flat on the bed. "We should go to sleep now. Tomorrow will go quickly and then Wednesday, I will be back to my old self."

John nodded, settling comfortably under the covers. He reached out for Sherlock's hand. "Do you need medicine before I fall asleep?" he asked quietly. 

"No, I'm fine," Sherlock said. "Thank you. Have a good sleep." He turned a little to get comfortable, still holding onto John's hand. 

"Good night," John smiled, closing his eyes. He wasn't exactly sleepy, but it was nice resting with Sherlock. It didn't take him long to drift off. 

In the morning, Sherlock stayed in bed when John left for work. Today was the last proper day of being dependent, it was the last proper day of not being his normal self. Which seemed a bit stupid really, because once the cast was off, he and John could have sex and after his confessions last night, he wasn't really sure if he'd ever be normal again. Or maybe this would just be his new normal, their new normal -- that's the kind of thing John would say. He made a little smile. He did love John. He reached for his phone. 

_I do love you. SH_

John smiled at the message but was too busy to respond until lunch time. This new relationship with Sherlock was making his work a complete drag -- he was constantly wishing to be back home, even if the only thing they could do was watch films in bed. He thought about tomorrow and used it to help him through the day. It was busy, and he came home exhausted. 


	8. Just Leave Everything To Me

Sherlock was in the sitting room when John came in. "You look tired," he said. "There's tea on the table for you." He smiled as he watched John move across the room. "I don't want to bother you tonight, I'll leave you in peace -- no hassles, I promise." Sherlock took a sip of his own tea. "But I do need one favour, I'm afraid."

John was about to sink down into his chair when he paused and looked over at Sherlock. "What is it?" he asked. 

"Well, tomorrow the cast comes off, as you know. And I'm greatly looking forward to a shower, to standing on my own, letting everything, including the skin under the cast, get wet and clean." He glanced up at John. "So tonight I'd like my last bath for a little while," Sherlock swallowed. "What I mean is…I'd like you to give me a bath."

John smiled as he sat down and sipped at his tea. "I can do that," he nodded. "I'm going to eat some leftovers quick and then we can go." He got up to get his food, eating it while he drank his tea and told Sherlock about his busy day. When he was all finished he put everything in the kitchen and came to get Sherlock. "Ready?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. He pushed himself up for the sofa. "Um…look, since this is hopefully the last night I'll ever be incapacitated in this way, I was wondering…if you could really…go for it." 

John's brow creased lightly with confusion. "Really go for what?" he asked, looking up at Sherlock as they headed for the bathroom. 

"Really…baby me," Sherlock said, looking down quickly.

"You want me to properly wash you myself?" John set him down on the toilet and got the water going. He turned and started taking Sherlock's clothes off slowly, starting with his shirt. "I can take care of you," he murmured.

"It's just…I've been thinking about it today, I guess," Sherlock said. "I'm so eager to be back in control of myself…I just thought perhaps since this is my last chance, I could hand you the control." He looked at John now. "Don't abuse it obviously and don't tease. I just thought we could try it." 

John leaned down and kissed his mouth as he pushed Sherlock's shirt from his shoulders. It went on a bit longer than he meant to before pulling away and helping him up so he could take off Sherlock's pajama bottoms. "Just leave everything to me, okay?" He pulled them carefully over his cast and quickly followed with his pants. He stood and shut the water off, leading him to the tub. "Come on," he murmured. 

Sherlock didn't say anything, but just followed John. He stood a bit stupidly, naked, next to John, who was still dressed.

John helped him into the tub, hanging his broken leg over the side of it again. He kneeled on the floor, close to the tub, and used his hand to spread the water over his chest, shoulders and arms. 

The warm water felt good on Sherlock's skin. He leaned against the back of the tub. He reached up and grabbed a wash cloth which he tossed to John.

John lathered up the wash cloth and slowly washed his chest and arms, moving behind his neck and down his back. "Should I do your hair?" John asked quietly.

Sherlock shrugged. "I thought you were the one who was in charge here," he said and closed his eyes as he leaned back again. "Yes obviously," he whispered without opening his eyes again.

"Shut up, I'm trying," John murmured. He rinsed off the cloth and then let it soak up water, wringing it off over his hair to make it wet. When that was done he put shampoo in his hands and started massaging it into his hair.

"Talk to me," Sherlock said softly, enjoying the feeling of John's fingers in his hair.

"I don't know what to say," John murmured. "I really like this, touching you this way. I like taking care of you -- you'll have to let me do that once in a while," he smiled.

"Maybe," Sherlock said, "I like it a bit…" He relaxed into John's touch. "Are you planning on washing my cock?"

"Patience, love." John rinsed his hands, picked up the cloth and used it to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. He lathered his hands again and reached under the water, washing his stomach and thighs. Slowly he moved to Sherlock's groin, wrapping his fingers around his cock. "I told you I'd take care of you," he murmured as he stroked slowly.

"Mmmm…" Sherlock leaned back against the porcelain. "That's good." He moved his hips just a little. "You're always good to me."

John smiled as he stroked his hand regularly. "You feel so good in my hand."

"Do you know what else would feel good?" Sherlock said quietly, his eyes still closed. "Your finger."

"My fi-oh," John said in understanding. "Here in the tub?" He moved his hand to rub his balls lightly, getting closer.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "I think it'll be okay, but there's something in the second drawer that could help if you want. It's just…I don't know if you've ever done it or had it done -- and, and to be honest, I don't want to know -- but I'll need to do it before we, you know, so I thought you could do it to me so you'll know what to expect. And besides, I want the feeling -- I want the feeling of you inside me."

John reached into the second drawer and saw the bottle of lube he assumed Sherlock meant. He took his hands out of the water and spread some generously on his fingers. He moved over to the other side of his casted leg, reached in a bit awkwardly to reach his cock and started stroking again. As he did, he pushed his finger slowly into Sherlock. It was warm and tight and he moaned softly as he started moving it slowly. 

"Oh god, fuck, John," Sherlock moaned softly. He relaxed into the intrusion -- and it felt good. "Do you like doing it?"

John nodded. "I like being inside you," he said. When he was moving easier he added a second finger, hoping the lube was waterproof and still on his fingers. He did it slowly to make sure. "It feels good…you feel so good."

Sherlock was leaning even further against the tub, his legs spread and his foot firm against the opposite end. He pushed himself against John's fingers. "Do you like knowing that you're making me melt, John? Do you like knowing that I couldn't solve the simplest of problems at the moment because there's nothing in my brain except the feeling you're giving me?"

John grinned. "Yes. I want you to only know these feelings -- me giving you pleasure, me inside of you, me trying to fill you up," he moaned softly. His hands moved faster, his grip around Sherlock tightening. 

Sherlock slipped his hand to his own cock, pushing John's out of the way. "Let me look after this," he said, "get yours out. I want you to make yourself come while you're fucking me with your fingers."

"I wish you weren't in the tub - - -so I could see," John panted softly. He pulled his half hard cock out and started stroking himself, pushing his fingers further into Sherlock's body.

"Just see it in your mind for now," Sherlock said, because that's exactly what he was doing. "You'll see it tomorrow." He kept rocking his body against John's fingers. "Fuck," he said, "I'm sorry, John, but I wish you were fucking me. I wish you'd lift me out of this tub and fuck me on the bathroom floor." He kind of surprised himself a little.

John looked up at him with pleading eyes because that would be so fantastic but he would probably hit Sherlock's leg off of something -- there was hardly room on the floor. He gripped himself harder and tried to imagine he was inside Sherlock. He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined it was his cock. "Sherlock…" 

"I'm thinking about that," Sherlock moaned, "I'm thinking about how much I want you to do that, for you to fuck me hard on this floor. I'm begging you, I never beg, John, but I'm begging you because you're making me feel so good. I'm thinking about your being on top of me, pulling me towards you, pushing inside me hard and fast, you're taking care of me just like you said you would." He moved a bit faster on his cock and pushed harder against John's fingers.

"Fucking hell, Sherlock," John moaned loudly. "I want…I want that." He could hardly focus on the movements anymore. Everything was fast and chaotic and he just needed so much more than his hands. "I want push into you…to feel this heat on my cock." 

"Make yourself come, John," Sherlock said. "I'm going to come any second now -- I'm going to tighten around your fingers as I come." He felt the tension starting and he moved his hand hard and fast. "I'm going to come now, John, imagine it's your cock that's inside and then make yourself come."

John pushed his fingers in and left them inside, stroking Sherlock's prostate as he tightened around him. John swore and called out for Sherlock, coming on the side of the bathtub as he jerked into his own hand.

Sherlock lay panting for a few minutes in the water. He let go of his cock and tried to splash some water up to clean off his belly. "Sorry," Sherlock said, "I don't know where all that filthy talk came from…but it appears it seemed to work a treat for both of us." He smiled. "You okay?"

John nodded, lifting his head to look up at him. "I was supposed to be taking care of you," he sighed. "I could have said all of that sexy stuff. Sorry."

"Trust me, you took care of me just fine," Sherlock said smiling. "Did you like doing that to me?"

John nodded again, smiling now. "I like doing everything to you. I liked being with you like that --inside you," he said. 

"Good," Sherlock said, "Do you think you'd like me to do it to you?"

"I think so," John said. "I want to do it to you first. I want to know what that feels like."

"All right," Sherlock said. "We can do whatever you want. Well…within reason. I have seen the videos you look at…I'm up for a lot of it but probably not everything you've ever watched." He raised his eyebrows worriedly.

John flushed and shook his head. "Shut up," he mumbled, grinning stupidly.

Sherlock sat up in the bath and reached for John, pulling him into a soft kiss. "I want to do everything with you, John, but I need you to promise me something -- whatever we do, promise me you won't be thinking of anything else while we're together. If something else comes into your mind, suggest it and we'll do it -- but if you can't, then promise me you'll stop thinking of it. I need to know that I'm giving you what you want." He leaned in and kissed him one more time. 

John nodded. "I promise I will," he said. "You're going to get all wrinkly if I don't get you out of there." He smiled and kissed Sherlock again. "Do you want to watch another film when we go to bed?"

"I don't care, whatever you want," Sherlock said. "Actually you're going to have to help me up -- my body feels all weird after that, especially with my leg up the whole time." He held up his hands.

John pulled on his arms and scooted under his armpit to hold him up better. "Here -- sit on the toilet again so I can dry you off," he said, helping Sherlock sink down on the lid. He brought the towel over and started drying him off. "How do you feel?"

"I'm horny again," Sherlock said, grabbing John's hand and bringing it to his cock. "I seem to quite enjoy your babying me. But it'll just be for today, I think, so don't get any big ideas."

John wrapped his fingers around him and started stroking again. "I must say I love your appetite," he smiled. 

"Not on the toilet, John," Sherlock said, smiling, "I can be filthy but not disgusting. Help me up and we'll go in the bedroom."

"Well, we weren't going to stay here," John said, helping him up. "I was just saying that I am in agreement with this course of events," he smiled. 

Once they were in the bedroom, Sherlock said, "I need one more favour. Could you go get me the green file that's in the bottom drawer on the right side of my desk, please? Can you bring it back in here?"

"Yeah," John said, making sure he was comfortably sitting before going to get it. "What's in here?" he asked as he brought it back into the room. 

"I just wanted to show you something in advance of tomorrow," Sherlock said. He looked through his file and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to John. "It was a couple months ago but since then, you know I've not had sex with anyone nor have I used, but I'll get tested again if you want. I just thought I'd let you know."

John looked over the medical report and shook his head. "You don't have to do that," he said. "But I don't have proof like this, just my word. Want me to have a check up tomorrow while they're removing your cast?"

"It would be bad if you are lying, especially as you're a doctor," Sherlock said. "If you say you're safe, I believe you." He turned a bit on the edge of the bed. "Can I show you one more thing? He lifted his bad leg up onto the bed, but kept his other one on the floor, so his legs were spread wide open, which made him feel a little shy so he flopped down onto the bed, keeping his legs in position. "Do you have any ideas?" he said quietly. 

John stepped closer, rubbing his thighs with his hands as he bent forward. "I have one," he whispered, making his breath ghost over his groin. He licked up Sherlock's shaft, kissing the tip of his cock. "Care to guess what it is?" he murmured. 

"No," Sherlock said quietly. "You said you'd be in charge. You said you'd take care of me."

"I just wanted you to play a game with me," John murmured before swallowing Sherlock, bobbing his head up and down and stroking what he couldn't fit just yet. 

"Fuck," Sherlock said, "That surprised me. God, fuck, John." Sherlock wiggled a little on the bed. "God, it feels good." He reached down and touched John's hair softly.

John hummed around him as he moved, slowly taking in more as he got used to the full feeling in his mouth. He pulled off for a moment to spit onto his fingers, pushing two into Sherlock again as he went back to swallowing his cock. 

"John," Sherlock called loudly. "Oh god, how did you learn to be so good at this? Don't tell me. Just . . . god, I . . . I don't know what I'm saying." His hand gripped John's hair.

John smiled inwardly and wished he could see Sherlock's face just then. He pumped his fingers in time with his head moving up and down. He was careful not to rest on his leg and hurt him. 

"Okay, okay," Sherlock said, "You're going to have to slow down just a little bit because I'm just about ready to burst."

John pulled off and stilled his fingers. "Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked, murmuring the words against his shaft. 

"Obviously," Sherlock said. He looked down and smiled. "I like this view," he smiled even wider. "Are you going to put it in?"

"I-now? What about your leg?" John asked, looking up at him. 

"Well, I can keep it like this for a little longer -- is there room for you? If you lift and hold my other leg," the image flashed in his mind for a second and then he really, really wanted to. "I think we'll be okay. If I stay on the edge of the bed…" He bounced himself a little, smiling.

"Okay," John agreed, looking down at his spread legs and unable to say no. "Is there more lube in here?" he asked, starting to move his fingers again. 

"No, I've not got it stored all over the flat," Sherlock said, reaching down and stroking himself slowly. "Go in the bathroom and get it and don't change your mind while you do."

John pressed a kiss onto his lower stomach before hurrying to the bathroom to fetch the lube. He came back and admired Sherlock for a moment before coming back over to him. He poured a bit on his fingers and pushed three into Sherlock now, rubbing his lower belly with his other hand. 

"You don't have to, you know," Sherlock said, "but you won't hurt me, John, not after what we've been doing. Watch my face -- it's a stretch but it feels good, I promise. I want to feel you inside me."

John nodded, pulling his fingers out. He ditched his trousers and pants properly, pulled his shirt off and then spread the lube on himself instead. He lined up with Sherlock and slowly pushed into his body. "Oh, fuck," he moaned, watching himself sinking farther into him. 

"Go slow first," Sherlock said. When he felt John start to push in, he arched up off the bed. "John," he moaned, "fuck, it feels good . . . full . . ." He lifted a hand to his face -- it'd been so long since he'd have this feeling, but never had it felt this good. Then he tried to look down at John. "Does it feel good?"

John nodded. "I need to move, please," he said, slowly pulling out and pushing back in. His hands gripped Sherlock's hips tightly, fingers digging into his skin. 

"Please," Sherlock moaned, trying to use the bed to bounce a little. "I want to feel you move in me," he swallowed. "Tell me that you like it, tell me it feels good to you."

"It does," John moaned, moving properly now, pushing his hips and sliding back and forth inside of Sherlock. "Fuck, Sherlock it's so fucking good," he moaned, throwing his head back. He called out with every thrust, moaning Sherlock's name.

"Harder," Sherlock moaned as he watched John thrust into him until finally he had to reach down and start stroking himself. "Let me come first, John," he said, "I want you to feel it and then I want to feel you come inside me." His hand sped up on his cock as he dropped his head back.

John nodded and pushed harder into his body, whimpering as he braced himself to move faster and harder. He really hoped he wasn't hurting Sherlock's leg, but he was so lost in the pleasure of it all that he could hardly think straight. "Come, please Sherlock, I want to feel it it," he moaned. 

Sherlock's body arched. "God, it's you," Sherlock moaned, "it's you, John" and then he was coming, his body freezing for a moment except the jerking of his cock as he spilled over his hand. "Fuck," he said and then pried open his eyes. "Come, John, come inside me."

John pushed into his body only two more times before the sight and sounds and tightness overwhelmed him. He came hard, groaning out a string of swears before calling out for Sherlock. He slumped over him, falling into the mess and onto Sherlock, panting to catch his breath. 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John. "Please kiss me," he said, holding John's head so they were eye to eye.

John pulled out slowly and leaned up to kiss him, pressing his mouth to Sherlock's. He kissed him slow and soft, putting his weight on his arms. 

"Was it okay? Are you glad we did it?" Sherlock asked softly.

John nodded. "It was perfect," he murmured. "Let's get you more comfortable first," he smiled, pushing himself up and arranging a pillow under his leg. He climbed into bed and lay against him, curling close and draping an arm over his stomach. It was still messy. "I really liked it, Sherlock. I didn't hurt your leg, did I?" 

"No, I'm fine, I promise," Sherlock said, wanting to squeeze John closer. He leaned over and got some tissue to clean himself up. "I'm sorry I couldn't wait until tomorrow, John," he said, lying back down. "It feels like I've been waiting forever."

"I've been thinking about doing it properly since we admitted how we felt," John said.

"Well, tomorrow we can try every idea you ever thought of," Sherlock said, kissing John's neck.

"I liked --" John stopped and turned his head a bit so he was looking more down at Sherlock's body versus his face. "I liked that you took the time to explain, you know, how it felt." He finally got the words out, feeling his cheeks flush lightly. It was hard to be in charge and sexy when he was so nervous about it all. 

"John," Sherlock said, reaching for his face. "Listen to me. If you don't like it, we can just do it this way. You might just like thinking about it, rather than doing it. I promise it'll be okay, whatever you want to happen." He leaned down and kissed him.

John tried to resist looking up but really couldn't, feeling his cheeks flushing darker. "I know it's going to feel good -- I saw what it did to you. I'm just nervous," he shrugged, looking down again.

"We can do what you did in the bath first -- that will give you a better an idea. If you don't like that, we don't even have to try. I hope it does feel good, John, but what you did tonight -- that was incredible and I'll always want to do that again," Sherlock said, letting John rest on his chest. He rubbed John's arm softly.

John nodded and closed his eyes, imagining his own body stretching for Sherlock. He opened his eyes again, flushing even darker. "I want to try this with you," he said. "I trust you."

"John," Sherlock said, "I will do whatever you want me to do. As long as you promise to do that to me again. Because…it was fantastic." He smiled and thought about it again for a few seconds. "You made me feel good but also happy." 

John leaned over and gave him a kiss.

"Are we going to sleep now or what?" Sherlock said.

John nodded and settled down again. "We have a big day tomorrow," he smiled. He closed his eyes and sighed softly.

Sherlock closed his eyes and thought about what they'd done. He fell asleep with those thoughts.


	9. It's Nice To Be Normal Again

John had fallen asleep thinking about the next day, resulting in a horrible dream of Sherlock's leg getting cut off instead of the cast. He woke with a gasp and checked under the covers to be sure. He kissed Sherlock's forehead and saw there was an hour until the alarm went off. He couldn't get back to sleep. He got himself up and went to take a shower while he waited.

Sherlock felt John shift, but he didn't wake up. He was in a deep, dreamless sleep.

When John was finished he got dressed and went to the kitchen. He drank his tea and are some toast at the table. When he heard the alarm, he brought a mug of tea and toast to Sherlock.

Sherlock stretched and turned over to see John. "Hey you," he said softly. When he sat up, he realised he was a little sore but didn't know if he should say anything to John. He didn't want to make John feel bad or put him off trying it. But John seemed to appreciate knowing what to expect, so he said, "Hmmm . . . my muscles are a little sore."

John glanced down at Sherlock's hip and nodded. "I thought they might be a bit," he admitted. "Do you want medicine or anything?"

"No," Sherlock said. "It's…just because I haven't done that in so long, but it's not bad. It doesn't make me not want to do it again." He looked over at the clock. "What time do we have to leave?"

"I know. I just wondered," he assured Sherlock. "We have to be there by ten. I was thinking around nine? If you sign in early they might be able to get you back there early as well."

Sherlock grumbled, "All right. I want it to be over with, but in all honesty, I really want to stay in bed longer. Will you come home with me -- please tell me you don't have to go to work. I will really pout if you have to go to work."

"I took today and tomorrow off to make sure you'd be okay." John didn't mention that eighty percent of the time casts didn't come off at the first estimated day.

"You are the best person in the entire world," Sherlock said. "All right, I'll get up but I won't be happy for about six minutes and then I'll be a grown up." He smiled. "Thanks for the tea and toast."

John smiled. "I'll find you some clothes and help you get dressed when you're ready."

Sherlock wobbled to the bathroom, washed up and brushed his teeth. He came out and kissed John good morning. "Let's get this over with."  
  
John got up as well and grabbed his keys and his wallet before helping Sherlock down the stairs. He hailed a cab and helped him inside, moving to the other side so he wouldn't have to scoot over. "Here we go," he said after giving the address.

"John," Sherlock said, "I'm a little bit nervous I think. I don't know why. I just feel…I'm glad I'll be back to normal but I'm…it'll just be different, I guess. And I hope the doctor doesn't do something wrong."

John shook his head. "It's a very simple process, I promise you'll be okay." He thought of his dream and reached to take Sherlock's hand. "It's going to be fine." 

Sherlock smiled and squeezed John's hand. "Thank you for coming with me." He turned and watched as they made their way to the hospital.

"Of course," John said. "I expect you to carry me out to the cab -- all the way home, even, to return the favour." He grinned and paid the driver as they pulled up. 

Sherlock followed John into the hospital. He was extremely mindful of all signs. They waited and when his name was called, he asked if John would come with him. He didn't like the look of the doctor inside the little yellow room. He found the man's smile suspect.

"I don't think so," John said, glancing over at the nurse. "I will be right here, okay? Imagine walking out to me," he smiled. 

"John," Sherlock called as the doctor shut the door. And then he felt a bit embarrassed. Especially after it turned out that John was right and it was a simple process. And then it was done. He returned to John in the waiting area. "Let's go home," he said.

Walking on his leg felt weird -- not because it hurt -- but because he hadn't been doing it for so long. He caught himself limping a bit as they walked down the hallway.

John smiled when he saw Sherlock, looping his arm through Sherlock's as they walked. "Do you want to walk home or take a cab?"

"Cab," Sherlock said. "I think I want to take a shower and then lie down and pretend that that never happened and then wake up and start the day again."

"Okay," John said, throwing his hand out for a cab. "How do you feel? It's lighter, yeah?" He smiled. 

"Yeah, it's better. It doesn't hurt -- it just feels different. I feel like I'm not used to walking properly," Sherlock said. "Thanks for coming with me."

"You'll get used to it again in no time," John promised. "I suppose you can carry me tomorrow," he teased. 

Sherlock smiled at him. When they got back to the flat, he climbed the stairs slowly. "Could you put the kettle on while I'm in the shower?" he asked and went straight into the bathroom. He stripped and stepped into the hot water. God, it felt good. It felt good to stand properly, to have no part of his body hidden from the air and the water and himself. He bent over and rubbed the soap over his newly exposed skin. Then he washed his hair before getting out.

He dried off and walked naked into his bedroom where he got his dressing gown. Then he met John in the kitchen where a mug of tea was waiting for him.

"Thanks," he said. "I feel much better now."

"Good," John smiled. "Did it smell like I said it would? I bet it felt good to wash it -- I'm glad you washed it." 

"I tried not to smell it, but you were right that it didn't look freakish," Sherlock said. "A little itchy maybe. Perhaps I should put some cream on it or something." He took a drink. "Are we going into the bedroom after we finish our tea? I was wondering if maybe you could give me a rub -- my legs are a bit sore . . . from last night."

John was about to tell him that they should avoid a black and white plan so that he wouldn't get worked up and nervous again, but then Sherlock asked for a rub and he nodded. "Yes, I can do that," he smiled. 

"Thanks," Sherlock said. "I'm a bit sleepy as well, I think. The hot water . . . maybe. I'm not complaining, I think I'm starting to relax into feeling more normal again." He finished his tea and stood up. "I'm going to go in now. Come in whenever you're ready."

He walked to his bedroom -- no longer limping. He climbed into the bed. The sheets felt nice on his skin, particularly on his leg. He closed his eyes and turned his head against the pillow.

John stood at the counter for a second longer. He knew where the massage would lead despite Sherlock doing how tired he was. He wished Sherlock hadn't asked him into the bedroom even though at the same time he wished he'd been pulled into the bedroom. He put his mug down on the table and padded into the room, climbing up beside him. "Want me to start at your back again?

Sherlock opened his eyes. "I'm sorry, I think I've changed my mind, John. I think I might need a nap first. If I sleep, will you still rub my legs later?" His voice was sleepy and his eyes wanted to close again. "You don't have to go -- you can stay here, I'd like that, but I've really gone sleepy."

"Yeah, of course," John nodded, laying down beside him and facing the ceiling. "Go ahead and sleep."

Sherlock reached over and held John's hand. "I'm so glad for you, John Watson," he said sleepily. He closed his eyes and was quickly asleep.

John turned on his side and watched Sherlock sleep, admiring him now that he wasn't moving or talking or staring back. He really was gorgeous, and John could hardly believe that he had him all to himself. He looked down at their hands as if to remind himself that it was real.

Sherlock's eyes flicked open. "Are you staring at me?" He asked, sleepily. "I could feel you looking at me." He rolled onto his back and stretched. He lifted his leg up. "It's nice to be normal again." He turned over on his side and faced John again. "Did you sleep at all?"

John shook his head.

Sherlock slid closer to John, wrapping his arms around him. "Thanks for helping me when I was a helpless baby," he said. "Close your eyes and delete all memories of my being dependent, please." He smiled and kissed John's forehead. "Oh John Watson, that will never happen, will it? I'll always need you now…"

"I don't mind at all," John murmured, curling close to him. "But I'm not deleting a single thing," he grinned.

"I hope you don't change your mind," Sherlock said, "sometimes when I need, I need a lot." He leaned down and kissed John's mouth slowly, keeping his eyes open to watch John's eyes.

"I still don't mind," he murmured after the kiss. "Take everything," he smiled.

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John again, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and holding it softly with his teeth. Then he pulled back, sat up and slipped off his dressing gown so he was naked. He slid back towards John and slipped his arms around him again, burying his face in his neck.

"I really like this -- being so close with you," John murmured.

"I like it too," Sherlock said. "Being by you, it just feels good. Do you want to stay like this or should we kiss some more?" His hands moved lightly over John's back.

"I want to kiss more," he said, finding Sherlock's mouth again. He curled his fingers to rub his chest.

Sherlock pressed into John's kiss as his hands dropped to John's lower back. "I love the taste of you, John Watson," Sherlock moaned quietly. "All this time near you -- I always wondered what you'd taste like."

John smiled into the kiss.

Sherlock reached in front of John and began to unbutton his shirt. "Can I take this off?" he asked.

John nodded. "I should have while you were sleeping," he smiled.

"I don't mind," Sherlock said, pulling John's shirt off him. "You've been dressing and undressing me for weeks. It's my turn now." His hands dropped to John's waistband. His fingers curled around it, touching John's skin and Sherlock leaned in and kissed his mouth again. Then he unhooked his belt, undid the button and zip and pushed John's trousers lower. He slid down the bed and pulled on John's trousers and pants, saying "Lift your hips" so he could get them all the way off. "Do you want to keep your socks on?" Sherlock asked, smiling as he looked up at John.

"No, that's not very sexy, is it?" John smiled, wiggling his toes.

Sherlock leaned down and pulled John's socks from his feet. Then he moved back, positioning himself so that his face was level with John's chest. He covered John's collarbones with licks and kisses and then dropped his mouth to John's right nipple. He sucked lightly at first then harder, before moving to his left one.

John laced his fingers into Sherlock's hair with a soft moan. "Turns out I like that," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said. "I want to do the things you like." He continued kissing John's chest but one of his hands dropped to John's cock, which he held lightly in his hand. He pushed himself back up and began giving John long, wet kisses.

John bucked lightly into his hand, humming into the kisses as he played with Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock shifted his hips a little and moved his hand so he was holding both of their cocks together. But he still didn't start moving, just held them, though the feeling of John's touching more than one part of his body was starting to make him hard and aching. He moved his mouth to John's ear to kiss and suck on the lobe.

John squirmed beneath him for some movement, running his hand along Sherlock's back and sides and arse. "God, I love touching you," he whispered.

"Good," Sherlock said, "don't ever stop." Sherlock's hips rocked slightly -- his hand still gripping both of them. "Fuck," he mumbled under his breath.

"I won't," John murmured, his hands constantly in motion.

Sherlock pushed John onto his back and crawled over top of him, still pressed against him. He kissed John's mouth again and then moved himself down. He moved down to John's thighs and then started stroking John's cock properly, a slow, firm grip. He looked up at John's face. "This okay?"

John nodded. "Don't ask too much because I'll get nervous…I'll let you know, okay?" He reached down and touched his hand, smiling at him.

Sherlock smiled at John. He leaned over and kissed his mouth. Then he slid down a little more and kissed John's stomach as he continued to stroke him. He moved his mouth down John's side to put some kisses on his thigh. He wiggled down a bit and flicked his tongue a few times across John's balls.

John moaned and licked his lips, lacing his fingers into Sherlock's hair again.

Sherlock let his other hand slip to John's leg which he squeezed tightly, his finger tips holding the fleshy part of John's inner thigh. He kept the movement steady on John's cock.

John brought his legs up a bit, clutching Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock wanted to use his fingers. He knew that John didn't want too many announcements, but also this seemed like something he shouldn't spring on him, regardless of John's movements seeming to indicate interest. So he said, "John, could you get me the bottle in the top drawer?" figuring this would give John a chance to speak up if he wanted Sherlock to stop.

John reached up into the drawer and have him the bottle, his stomach flipping lightly. He pulled his legs up a bit, looking down at him and petting his hair.

Sherlock reached down and put some kisses on John's cock as he tried to get the cap off the bottle. He poured some into his hand and then moved back to John's thighs, gripping them. Then he slipped one hand between his legs, slicking everywhere, as his other hand went back to John's cock. His stroke was now smooth. "God, you're so sexy, John," Sherlock moaned softly. "You're making me a little bit crazy." He smiled.

John smiled wider, squirming under his hands. "You're the sexy one. I can hardly believe I have you all to myself," he murmured.

Sherlock kept moving his hand between John's legs as he spoke, "John Watson, I've been yours since you moved into this flat. I'm all yours and you know it." He let his fingertips pass over John's hole softly.

John bit his lip and pushed against his fingers just lightly. "But now it's official -- proper," he said, looking down again.

Sherlock smiled, "It is, John. It's official. It's just you and me." He slowly pushed just the tip of his index finger in and let it rest there as he went back to concentrating on stroking John. He watched John's face.

John's mouth fell open just slightly, waiting for more. "I'm not fragile," he smiled. "Just nervous. Although both of your hands feel fantastic."

Sherlock leaned over and gave John a kiss on the mouth. "I know you're not fragile, you fool," he said, "but you are everything to me and I just want to take care of you." He moved his mouth to John's ear and sucked it as he slowly pushed his finger all the way in. It was tight but the movement was smooth, thanks to the lube. Sherlock made a little moan in John's ear.

John moaned much louder than Sherlock did, closing his eyes at the feeling of Sherlock going into him. He had long, thin fingers so for now it was just a pleasant, soft burn. "It's good, knowing that's you," John murmured. 

"It is me, John," Sherlock said, starting to move his finger slowly. "It'll always be me." He kissed John's neck again, sucking the skin.

"Yes," John moaned softly, not only agreeing with him but because of the feeling of Sherlock moving inside. 

Sherlock lifted his head up and shifted his body just slightly, moving down the bed. He wrapped his long fingers around John's cock again and went back to stroking, using the same rhythm as his finger moving in and out of John. The tension around it eased just a little as John's body adapted to Sherlock's presence. He pushed two fingers in. "I love you," he said softly, as his eyes moved from his hand to John's face.

"I love you too," John mumbled, squirming under his hands again. It was intense now as he felt himself stretching for his fingers. It was different but slowly becoming very good. "I-I like that."

Sherlock just looked at John and smiled. "I do, too," he said softly. He moved his hand from John's cock to softly rub his balls and inner thighs. "It feels nice, I like being the first," he said, watching his fingers move.

John began to move with Sherlock's hands now as he got more comfortable with the feeling of it all.

"Do you want me to try now?" Sherlock said, moving his fingers a bit apart as he kept the rhythm. "I want to go very slow when I do, John. I want to feel everything and I can stop at anytime. Do you want me to try?"

John nodded, pulling his legs up a bit more. He moaned at the new direction of Sherlock's fingers, feeling them a bit deeper now.  "Kiss me as you do, okay?" 

"Of course I will," Sherlock said. He smiled at John as he poured more lube into his hand, stroking his own aching cock and then wiping a bit more around John's opening. Then he held his cock, lined himself up and pushed in just the tip. He bent over and leaned on his other arm, reaching down to kiss John's mouth as he slowly pushed himself inside, but half way through the kiss, his mouth opened and he just called John's name as the intensity filled him. He made himself open his eyes and he looked down at John. "Sorry, but it just feels so good. I love you, John, I love you," he said before dropping his head and kissing John again. 

John hadn't been ready for quite so much. He groaned and bit his lip as Sherlock filled his body, blinking up at him and trying to kiss him back. He tried to relax his body, staying still as he focused on the intense feeling of being so full and stretched. "D-don't stop, okay? Just -- I need one second." 

Sherlock did stop but then John said not to, so he moved again, just trying to go as slowly as he could. "John, look at me -- take three deep breaths and then close your eyes and think about everything in your body melting into the bed." He leaned down and kissed John's neck. He thought about John saying he wasn't fragile -- Sherlock didn't want to over-react and make John feel self conscious, but this was a big deal and Sherlock wanted John to like it.

John closed his eyes at the kisses and did as he asked, taking deep breaths and trying to get his mind to accept that there was nothing odd going on. He slowly relaxed, his body slowly accommodating Sherlock's cock. "You can move now," he said quietly.

Sherlock didn't pull back, but instead he started rolling his hips. "God, John, you feel so good," he moaned softly.

"You too," he moaned, pressing his head against the pillow. "Fuck, that-that feels good."

Sherlock took a few deep breaths himself but continued to roll his hips, going a little deeper. He dropped his head and sucked on John's neck, bringing a hand up to grip John's hair. He moaned loudly, not knowing what words to say.

John threw his head back and finally got his arms moving, gripping Sherlock's hips before sliding all the way up his sides, coming around and gripping his shoulders then sliding down his arms.

"John," Sherlock moaned, bringing his legs together a little. "I don't know how much longer…" He dropped down to kiss him again before lifting up so he could reach down and stroke John. He moved his hand fast.

"Fuck me," John murmured before he could stop himself. "I-I want you…to enjoy it, please." To prove he was okay he tried to thrust up for movement.

"This is how I want to fuck you, John," Sherlock said. "I want to feel everything, please," he closed his eyes, still rolling his hips and pumping his hand. "I want to be able to feel you when you come. Please -- stop thinking and just come into my hand."

John squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the slow movements, on the fullness in his body. He gasped as his orgasm came rushing on -- he came into Sherlock's hand, tightening around him as he called out his name.

As Sherlock watched John's orgasm move through him, he pushed himself as deep as he could go and came as well, his body tightening with the push. He leaned down and kissed John's mouth before gently sliding out and lying down next to him. "Thank you, John," he whispered and held onto his arm.

John panted softly as he tried to catch his breath. "It was good, you were good," he said, moving to hold his hand.

"Shhh," Sherlock said, stroking John's face and then moving his hand to rest on John's chest. He tried to calm his own breathing and his legs which were shaking a little. He closed his eyes and listened to both of them breathing.

John swallowed and huffed out a breath. "I love you," he whispered quietly. He squeezed Sherlock's hand lightly and closed his eyes.

Sherlock turned his head and looked at John's face. "This is better than any story," he whispered. "I love you, too."


End file.
